Quiet like the Snow
by BeckaBoo1735
Summary: Sam was a mute, in all these years Dean's never really agreed with what that title meant, but they'd used it since he could remember. Set around s1 timeline. AU.
1. Refuge from the Wreckage

_**A/N: Okay, long story, (probably made longer), the other day, I asked for a mute story on story finders, and what I envisioned just wasn't the results I got. So I thought why not write it myself, and here it is. Bit random and different for me but I hope you guys enjoy x **_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Summary:** Sam was a mute, in all these years Dean's never really agreed with what that title meant, but they'd used it since he could remember. Set around s1 timeline.

**Quiet like the snow**

"Sammy, you want anything?" Dean asked after closing the menu.

Sam nodded his head, scowled at the nickname, then took the menu and started looking. After a few minutes Sam pointed to the chicken salad and then to the coke.

"Not coffee?"

Sam shook his head, Dean didn't expect a verbal answer, he never does, he just wished he could say the same for practically every other human on the planet.

As the waitress started to wander over, Dean only hoped this one would be a little more polite than yesterdays, after they ordered, the bitch had called Sam a retard under her breath. It didn't bother the kid, but that didn't mean it didn't bother his big brother. If that chick had been a guy, Dean would have decked her.

"So, what you two handsome boys want today?" this waitress, 'Emma', unlike the one before, had a smile and a charm about her - okay she wasn't doing too bad so far.

"Burger and fries, extra onions." Dean left out the sweetheart today, it would take him a few days to be charming again, always did after a bad day.

"How about you sugar?" she looked to Sam, who just stared at her, then back at Dean, before he went to pick the dried skin from his hands. Dean noticed it, just as he noticed everything else with his brother. _Okay, so maybe yesterday had bothered him._

"He'll have the chicken salad, and cokes for us both."

"Sure thing hon." She smiled and left.

Dean let out a breath of relief when she did so. Sam nudged his elbow to get his attention, he was smiling slightly, maybe even a little sadly. Dean knew what his brother was saying, he was telling him he didn't have to worry that much, he was okay.

"Yeah well, that doesn't mean you have to put up with it. I sure as hell ain't."

Sam shrugged, _'I'm used to it.'_

Truth be told, so was Dean, but that didn't mean he liked it any better. The way some... well... most people, treated his brother, he expected it from every single person that wasn't him or his father, but he still hated how they all thought they had the right to make others feel like shit.

Basically, Sam was a mute. In all these years Dean's never really agreed with what that title meant, but they'd used it since he could remember. What Dean did understand was Sam didn't talk, hadn't for a long time. Probably never would.

_**SPN**_

The rest of their evening passed without a hitch, they ate their meals, Dean thanked the waitress for the both of them, then after they drove for a little longer they pulled into a motel for the night.

"I'm gonna take a shower."

Dean looked at his brother for a second before he went to gather some clean sweats and his shaving kit. He knew that face, that was Sam's _'don't use all the hot water,'_ face.

"Yeah, yeah, bitch."

The left side of Sam's face twitched, '_jerk_.'

As he stripped from his clothes and stood under the spray of the shower, Dean started to reminisce.

Most people probably wouldn't remember exact dates when crap things happened, they only remember when their kid spoke their first word, the day they tied their own shoe laces, the day they learned how to ride a bike. People don't like to remember when bad things happen, when their child started to talk back, when they got detention for the first time, when they got really sick and the day they're rushed to hospital. But Dean remembered their shit like it was yesterday, and he'd certainly never forget.

He and their dad had taken off for a hunt when Sam was about ten years old. They left the rather chatty, bubbly and sometimes annoying as hell, little kid with some friends of dads, and when they came back, Sam was just... silent, and had been ever since.

They had obviously tried to get him to talk, at first they figured it was just Sam being a whiny little so and so, he never was happy when they left him behind, but when days of silence turned to weeks, that was when they realized something was wrong.

On the third week, John contacted his 'friends', ranted and raved and beat one of them to a bloody pulp because they had to be the reason Sam wasn't talking, they had to have done something to his boy. One of them had to have said something, done something, it was the only explanation, kids just don't just stop talking for no reason, right?

Well, turns out, what they weren't told when they picked Sam up was, John's gang of so called friends had found a little hunt to go on in the week he left his youngest son in their care. They got bored of babysitting, so they went to go have some fun in the woods. Sam was told to stay in the car, and not get out under any circumstances. But the kid had to pee, and when you had to go, you had to go. He had lock picked his way out of Bill's truck and sprinted to the nearest cave for some privacy. There Sam had found trouble, shoulders deep in shit trouble. Clay, the one John made sure would be eating through a straw for the rest of his life had said he heard someone screaming that night, but when stopped all of a sudden, they figured it was just their imagination. They killed the big nasty when it came out from toying with Sam in the cave, then they took the kid back to the truck, and went on their merry way home, no harm, no foul. Yeah, John reacted just about the way you'd expect with that little tale, only worse.

Sam's brother and father took him to see a specialist in about the fifth week. After every damn brain scan under the sun, the hospital didn't have any real answers. The doctor diagnosed Sam with Selective Mutism, or SM if you want to be quick about it. It was something to do with a person, most often a child, who find themselves unable to speak in certain situations or around certain people, often because of shyness or some sort of social anxiety. Dean thought that was a bunch of bull, he still did, Sam wasn't shy, he was the most outgoing kid on the planet. They got a second opinion, and still, the new doctor explained there was no medical reason for why Sam wasn't talking, his voice box and everything around it was working perfectly, and none of the brain tests showed any kind of blockages or barriers to Sam's speech. He was just simply choosing not to talk, maybe consciously, maybe subconsciously.

Over the months, with countless nightmares and painfully silent screams from Sammy, John and Dean had worked it all out, Sam had been attacked in that cave, he had been the one screaming for help, he had screamed until he had nothing left, until he broke. He had cried for someone, anyone to save him, no one had, Sam had been abandoned, and now he was damaged because of that.

Dean knew his dad would never forgive himself for what had happened to Sammy, for leaving him with people he thought he could trust. God knows Dean hated himself for not listening to his brother when he needed it the most. Maybe if he had tried harder, noticed it sooner, Sam would be fine now, normal. But... sometimes, life just sucks doesn't it? It hands you lemons and you've just got to make lemonade no matter how much you despise the taste of it.

The kid was sent to bunch of speech therapists and psychologists over the years, but when Dean found a broken thirteen year old sobbing -in silence of course- on the bathroom floor one night, the endless shrink sessions and hordes of doctors ended. Sam didn't want to be the freak anymore, he didn't want the patronisation or the pity any longer. He just wanted people to treat him how they used to, and accept that his lack of speech was just as much of a part of him as his floppy hair and geeky books. He never told Dean any of this, clearly, but Dean knew the second he pulled his crying baby brother into his arms that night. When you've known a person all their lives, you tended to be pretty good at the whole sixth-sense thing.

Home life got easier when they treated Sam like Sam again. It took John a little longer to accept it, but eventually he gave into the inevitable, and Sam just became 'the quiet one' when he introduced himself and his boys. Training was back on schedule, and on his fourteenth birthday the initiation into the family business was handed out and Sammy was given a silver hunting knife engraved with his initials.

Sometimes Sam thrived on hunts, like he was getting his own back on those evil basted's that took something from him. But other times, when they faced certain monsters, black dogs to be specific, Sam went into an almost catatonic state. Dean had tried to talk to their dad about it, tell him to avoid those kinds of creatures for Sam's sake, hand that job over to someone else, but John always said Sam needed to face his fear. The kid tried his best, but with his father's methods, Sam ended up hating hunting all together as the years went along. Dean didn't blame him, he'd hate it too if it constantly reminded him of the worst night of his life, hell, he did hate it, for what it did to his brother. Sam still hung on though, for his brother he stuck around and sucked it up.

What Dean was always most proud of though was despite Sam's -enter quote marks- 'disability'... he sailed through school. Languages were a problem, but everything else... let's just say the letter A came up a hell of a lot on his report cards. Most teachers even complimented Sam, saying they only wished they had a classroom full of kids as quiet and well behaved as he was. Dean was beaming the day Sam got a freakin' full ride to Stanford.

Dad went insane when he found out, said how the hell was Sam supposed to do even the simplest of things like catch a bus when he couldn't speak. What if there was an accident, what if there was a fire, what if there was an attack and Sam couldn't yell for help? _"How the fuck do you even expect to introduce yourself? It's not like you're suddenly gonna grow a sack and start talking is it?"_ Dad was out of line with some of the things he said - he called Sam useless and pathetic on his own, hopeless without the two of them to stick up for him, protect him, speak for him. That's when the kid made the loudest sound he'd made in eight years - he packed his bags and slammed the door so hard it practically vibrated the whole block of motel rooms.

Two years they were apart, and in spite of his pride for his baby brother, those two years were two of the most miserable, and lonely years of Dean's life. If you thought there was no difference between living with a mute with nothing but one sided conversations, and living alone, you were wrong. Especially the last month, when dad took off, when Dean really was _alone_. Yeah, those days sucked.

While he drove to Cali, Dean started to freak, what if he'd forgotten how to read Sam? What if he didn't understand him anymore? What if he'd lost the ability to interpret even the slightest twitch from Sam's mouth? He kinda hoped the day he knocked on Sam's dorm room door he'd find a new man, a talking man... okay, maybe not a man yet, but talking at least. But apparently lectures needed even less speech than high school classrooms. So did getting a girl, Dean was impressed at what Sam had been able to accomplish without speaking a word. Even in the hour that he spent with Jess, Dean could tell she cared about his brother, she knew him, and he hadn't needed to say a word. The tears Sam cried when she died had only defined and confirmed that all the more.

But now dad was missing, and although they had some kissing and making up to do, Sam was back and he was just as determined to find his father as Dean was. Oh, and FYI, _thankfully_, reading Sam, was like riding a bike.

Did he miss his brother's voice? Sure. Did he wonder daily what it would sound like now? Duh! Did he hold it against Sam or treat him anything less than his pain in the ass little brother? No. Never. Not gonna happen. Sam didn't have a voice, but he could still 'speak' and Dean would always be there to listen.

_**The End.**_

Possibly, does it seem ended to you? Or should I carry on? If you want the latter then give me some ideas for plots and stuff, anything I'm so in. But I need ideas! Long story, short story, or is this the end?


	2. Letting the cables sleep

**Sorry this took so long guys, I had to be taken to hospital at the end of last week. Long story. Anyway, I'm sorry if it takes me a while to get chapters in this story written and posted. When the docs killed my infection I think they murdered my muse as well! And I have another story on the go as some of you know so I hope you understand x **

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Letting the cables sleep**

Dean awoke that night to the sounds of someone moving rather frantically in the room. He gripped his blade under his pillow taking a few mili seconds to gather his thoughts and evaluate the goings on and what they were. All it took for him to let go of the silver knife was a short gasp from his brother in the bed beside his.

"Sammy?" he called, his voice more drowsy than his reflexes were. "Sam, wake up," he sat up in bed quickly and swung his legs out from the covers to brush the floor. "Sam," he prodded, louder this time as he reached over and shook Sam's shoulder a little.

His brother just tossed and turned, oblivious to the real world outside his dark unconscious mind. There were no screams, as usual, at least not verbal ones that required Sam to use his voice box. Sometimes Dean figured it was weird, but he was used to it, Sam didn't scream, not when he was in the grip of a nightmare, not when he was surprised, not even when dad dug that freakin' werewolf nail – well, claw really- from his shoulder back in the day. Sure the kid grunted, winced, and even laughed like a good one on rare occasions, but never did he scream.

One last try with the gentle nudges before Dean lost his patience, if he could kick a dreams ass, he would - tenfold. "Sammy wake up!" he yelled, not loud to wake the neighbours, but loud enough to hopefully get through to his brother.

It did, Sam leaped up into a sitting position, choking back a gasp as his eyes shot open. It took him a little longer than his brother to bring everything together - what state it was this week, what color the room decor was of the night, what the hell he'd just been dreaming about that was so bad Dean had to call his name... again. He got there after a few seconds, looked over to his brother and sent a sheepish expression his way with an undertone of guilt.

"You okay?"

A shrug, and a wave of his hand, _'So, so.'_

"You wanna talk about?" _Talk_ about sticking his foot in it with the worst possible words, but Sam never took offence, not once, not after all these years, so Dean learned to feel a little less guilty about phrases like that as they went by.

Sam blinked, '_No thank you.' _Hethen bit his cheek, just a pinch, he probably thought Dean wouldn't be able to tell, but his brother wasn't born yesterday.

"Alright, get some sleep, you look like crap princess."

Sam gave Dean a middle finger salute and a bitch scowl before he pulled his covers straight and laid back against the pillows. He didn't close his eyes, all he saw there was burning flames and Jess's screams. That night they had been just as silent as his own always were, and that hurt more than anything had in his life. He knew what it was like to be so afraid, not a sound came out when your lips parted, he knew what it was like to be screaming so loud inside it felt like your ear drums were going to shatter under the pressure inside, and yet not a sound, not even a whisper was heard by the people around you.

Dean was too exhausted from the crap week they'd just had to realize three hours later Sam was still wide awake, and wouldn't be going to sleep if he could help it for the next few days. But when the semi well rested older brother woke up to the scent of strong coffee, he knew, Lord, he knew.

"Everything go okay?" he was referring to the ordering coffee business, sometimes they got lucky and Sam came back from the diner a happy caffeinated bunny. Sometimes they weren't so lucky and Dean had to physically stop himself from beating down the assholes that had the nerve to kick Sam while he was down. He wasn't usually this over-protective, not out loud anyway, but he just had to make sure Sammy was doing at least okay these days.

Sam grabbed a pen and paper after handing Dean his coffee and doughnuts. **"Emma says hey." **He handed over the phone number she'd given him along with his note.

His big brother snorted after reading, and took that as a 'yes Dean, it went fine.'

Emma _was_ hot, so Dean multi-tasked and saved the number into his cell while drinking his coffee; just in case they were ever to pass through the town again, preferably when they had more spare time.

Snatching the pad back, Sam wrote something else. **"Where to today?"**

"I was thinking we'd keep heading north."

"**K."**

Sam always did prefer writing to sign language, one of the quacks suggested it... round about Sam's eleventh birthday. John didn't agree at first, Dean didn't either, it would be like accepting that was how Sam would be from now on, and he wouldn't get his voice back, at least not his vocal one anyway. But they eventually turned around on the matter, it was to help Sammy after all. Not that the kid understood that, he was a freakin genius, always was, always will be, but sometimes when it came to stuff involving what was best for him, he could be a really dense. He stuck it out though, after several tantrums that was, you'd be amazed how deafening a silent kid was when they had a bad temper. Sam went to a few classes with his brother, he sat there next to the other mute kids and did as he was told like a good little boy. When they got home Dean would teach a few things to their dad he'd learned while Sam pouted in his room about if dad cared so much, why wasn't he at the classes with them? He didn't understand that sometimes dad didn't have the time to go to the classes, he had important work to do, life saving work. But Dean could understand where Sam was coming from, their dad going to at least one class would have helped, shown he that he wasn't ashamed of his weirdo son.

Looking back now though, Dean figured maybe that was the start of Sam feeling like a freak, sure all the kids in that class were mute and were all their for the same goal, but Sam was still the odd one in the bunch. The others were mute from being deaf, Sammy was a whole different ball game and he hated it. Not to mention, that was when dad and Sam really started fighting, getting at each other's throats, the start of Sam doing anything and everything to piss his father off. John used to bite back just as hard, he would say it was keep to Sam in line, no child of his was going to pull his nose up at him and get away with it. Dean knew the truth though, even if his dad wasn't going to admit it, John was an ass and made Sam feel like a freak because he hated himself, like his son was a broken toy or something and it was his fault he couldn't fix it, he was just pompous and arrogant to admit it.

So to save himself from bad memories Sam stuck to writing these days, unless they were in a tight spot and had lack of paper.

"Pack the trunk, I got important stuff to do," Dean motioned to his breakfast.

Sam chose to just throw the pad at his brother's head this time. Okay so maybe the kid had more than writing and sign language to get his point across.

_**SPN**_

It wasn't long later that Hot Emma was forgotten and the boys were packed and ready to head out, set for a new hunt. It was surprising how boring jumping from motel to motel was when you had minimal work to keep you occupied in between, even if you were resting up.

"Ready to go?"

Sam nodded, zipped his bag up then headed out the door leaving his brother to lock it.

"You're turn to drive sasquatch." Tossing over the keys, Dean secretly hoped a few hours driving would wear Sam out enough he'd fall asleep, drooling against the window until they switched. He'd drive for friggin' days if it meant his brother got some damn sleep, there was only so long you could live on power naps before your body gave out.

_**SPN**_

It was hour five when Sam finally gave up the wheel and allowed Dean to take over, he'd only been badgering for the past three hours and, truthfully, he only shuffled into the passenger side to shut him up.

But he wasn't going to sleep, not going to happen. Well, that was the plan, until he found himself jumping up in his seat and going crashing face forward on the dashboard in a panic.

"Damn it Sam!"

Something warm drizzled down under his nose and only when it hit his lip did he realize it was blood. Maybe quite a bit of it.

The creaking of something nearby made him wince and the bang and rattle that followed definitely didn't help his headache.

As the colors started to spread back out, and the blurs of the horizon cleared, Sam felt something soft being pushed to his nose and clamped down hard.

Sam frowned at the person kneeling down beside him with a rather freaked look on his face. Dean always was a worry wart. He grunted to get his brothers attention, _'We stopped?'_

"You might have busted your lip genius," came the rather sarcastic explanation. "Hold this." Sam did as he was told, replacing Dean's fingers that held the tissue to his nostrils, though not so rough; he wanted the bleeding to stop, not to block off all circulation to his snout.

"I pulled over 'cause of your oh so manly yelp when you came up from making out with my dashboard, and you have about as much coordination when you're concussed as a pigeon." Not only did Dean worry, he also had a knack for colourful wit as well.

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean prodded his lip and winced. _'I'm not concussed jackass. Don't be overdramatic.'_

Dean didn't take note of the snotty words he expressed in his eyes, "Good news Sammy, looks like you're not concussed but you're gonna have an awesomely attractive fat lip tomorrow. And you wonder why people always call me the handsome one."

Too tired and too miserable, Sam didn't waste time on a reply this time but Dean knew what he would say if he had the energy.

The eldest sighed internally, checked to see if Sam's nose had stopped bleeding and, when he found it had, he patted his brother's shoulder then stood.

"Come on, let's hit the road. Next motel we'll pull in and you can sleep in a real bed - and you're _going_ to sleep Sammy."

_Yup, no more napp__ing__ in the car for you Sammy boy... well, not until I bubble wrap all doors, windows and the dashboard. _

For his little brother's sake, they didn't pull in until three motels later; he wanted Sam to know he wasn't punishing the kid, he was there for him. Dean knew the trouble that he had with sleeping, but he had to sometime soon. Hopefully, if Sam was as good at reading him as he was at reading Sam, then the kid would understand his intentions.

_**SPN**_

Just a few short days later, the brothers had driven just a couple more hundred miles and managed to find a good old hunt, a nice simple vengeful spirit. Yeah, since when was anything in hunting simple when the Winchesters were around? It's like they'd made themselves a living out of making easy jobs as complicated as possible.

Anyways, not only had they found a hunt, they'd finished it too, though this is where that not so simple thing became a problem.

"Come on Sammy, easy does it."

A grunt, well, maybe to most people, to Dean it was a thank you.

"Alright, you only have to stay vertical for another few steps, you're doing good man."

A wince, yeah, this time Dean didn't have a translation for that one, a wince was a wince, end of.

"Okay, sit your ass down, I'll be right back." He didn't have to say what he was going for, a dislocated shoulder sort of required one thing and one thing only. Well, maybe a few things, but they could all be found in one place - good pills, a sling if serious, and some of the good stuff, Dean was talking whisky on that one, or anything else they happened to have in the trunk that had a substantial amount of alcohol in it.

He came back with both their bags over his right shoulder, the first aid kit... well, tool box in his left hand and a brown bottle under his right arm. Sam hated the brand of liquor the Impala's trunk favoured but today Dean had a feeling his brother would take it willingly.

After he set the stuff down within arms reach when he needed them, Dean noted his brother's pale face had grown a green tinge to it. Snatching up the trash can, he held it under Sam's chin as he hurled. He thought about giving Sam hell for it later but then reconsidered as he _had_ waited until they were out of the car to lose his stomach contents - maybe he owed Sam for that one.

"You done?"

A gag, a short nod, followed by another wince that had Dean's spine twitching in sympathy.

"You hit your head too?" Dean asked setting the bin down, but keeping it close just in case.

Sam shook his head and his bangs swung into his eyes.

"You sure?"

A grunt, no, not a thank you this time, a real grunt, _get off my back no I didn't hit my head _grunt.

"Alright, no need to get cranky. Just checkin'."

Dean barely finished his sentence when Sam's stomach flipped again and he was making out with the motel trash once more. Dean sighed, then handed Sam a tissue or five to wipe his mouth with when he was done, hopefully for good this time.

"Sorry, no drinks for you now bro." Puking and alcohol didn't mix, though it did suck out loud for Dean, having to deny his brother some pain relief that actually worked. But don't you just love the irony, when pain throbbed like a bitch you needed a good drink to numb it, but when the pain was so bad it had you shaking and hurling your guts up... you couldn't have a drink because... well just because, didn't take a genius to know that one.

"Now you sure it's back in?" without waiting for an answer or an invitation Dean brought his hands up and prodded Sam's shoulder. He tried his best to keep a calm face as Sam whimpered with his poking and manipulation of the joint. "Sorry."

No grunt this time, thank you or otherwise, just silence and a grateful glimmer on Sam's face, or maybe that was just the street lights catching the water in his eyes.

"Back in," Dean confirmed, squeezing his brothers good shoulder. "Tylenol or something stronger?" the least Dean could do was give his brother some pills, they might take the edge off just a little, and hopefully his stomach wouldn't decline them like it would a good drink.

Sam held up his good hand and illustrated the number zero, zero as in nothing, nada, zip, zilch, no thank you have a nice day.

"Something stronger it is." Over the next few minutes -past the blur of the throbbing- Sam heard a tap running, and then three decent sized pills being placed in his hand.

The tablets were in fact Tylenol, they didn't have anything stronger, well, beside the obvious, but little bro didn't need to know that did he? After he chugged them back and the rest of the water, Dean patted his brother's leg. "Bed time Sammy."

The kid huffed, almost growled when Dean pulled off his shoes for him. Luckily Sam forced himself to close his eyes and turn his brain off before his brother could get him into his sweat pants and under the covers. He didn't want the humiliation of that to catch up with him just quite yet, it could wait for tomorrow.

Yeah, dislocated shoulders sucked, but on the bright side, pills always helped you sleep, and they especially helped out in the muted dreams department, or nightmares in Sam's case. The worst he'd have tonight would be green clouds and bright pink sheep. Yeah, you could say pills gave Sam weird dreams, but compared to his usual, a pink sheep was like being in Disneyland.

He was still coherent a little, just enough by this time to feel Dean's hand in his hair, moving his bangs out of the way and tucking more than one blanket under his chin – _probably gave you his too._ The hunt might have gone badly by Dean's point of view, for Sam, it couldn't have gone better.

When he felt himself drift off into the warm abyss of sleep, the fast fading edges of reality blurred and twisted until he found himself standing in the park. He could feel the warmth of the blazing sun on his cheek, the light weight of the leaf that fell to his shoulder and the crunch under his fingers as he brushed it off. He couldn't have gotten to the park so soon. It wasn't real, well, it felt like it was, but a part of Sam told him that it couldn't be, he was still in a motel with Dean.

Children were laughing, playing, swinging on the swings and slipping down the slide. It was wrong to admit, but he was jealous of their innocence, of their ignorance. But hell if you couldn't be selfish in your dreams where could you?

As that thought occurred to him, dark shadows swallowed the brightness, the life, the warm sun replaced by a bitterly cold wind and the children's laughter stopped.

He was alone. Empty swings rattled on their chains and the slide was a sharp edged slash in the gloom. He took a step forward and noticed a boy standing in front of him, blocking his path. The kid wasn't creepy, so something must be up.

"Are you okay?" he's never surprised at the warm, smooth tenor that passes his lips, not when he's sleeping. It feels more natural than his silence when he's conscious sometimes.

'_Help us.'_

The boy's lips hadn't moved, so how had he heard that?

'_Please help us, you have to help us.'_

"Who's us? Just tell me what's wrong, me and my brother can help," just as he took a step forward offering assistance, the boy disappeared, Sam ran after him, his lungs burned and his mouth rung dry, but he still ran.

A gasp, a cry, and suddenly he was awake in bed panting just as he had been in his dream.

_Shit__,__ that wasn't a dream. _That felt too much like when he dreamt of Jess... so much so he could almost feel her again.

Still feeling the after-effects of his not-dream, Sam felt an irrational terror and absolute need - he had to, _had to_, find the boy and... help them. Whoever 'us' may be. Ignoring his now throbbing head and assorted aches and pains, he scrambled up from the bed, pausing only a moment to stop the world from spinning and quash the sudden nausea and tenderness through his shoulder. Fumbling in the dark he grabbed his jacket and everything else that had been taken out of his bag before he fell asleep.

A click of the lamp making Sam blink in the sudden glare told him that Dean was now awake too, not that Sam was surprised. But what bothered him was his brother was looking at him like he was crazy, not just _man you're a freak_, but actually down to the bone_ little brother you have lost it_.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Dean asked when he noticed Sam was packing, no way his little brother was taking off now in the state he was in. Panting, exhausted, sweaty, in pain and were those tears ready to roll down his cheeks?

Putting his knife back down, now that he saw that there was no threat other than his possibly loony brother, Dean swiftly moved to his side, not sparing a second to the tangled covers than almost sent him on a nose dive.

"Hey, look at me." Carefully stilling the hand that was madly stuffing whatever it could find into the duffel he forced Sam to look at him and was not pleased at the dazed look in the green eyes. That had to have been one hell of a nightmare. "Sam, take it easy. Are you with me?"

Dean was pleased to see the outright panic dissolve from his brother's face, but it was replaced with a clear look of purpose and definite message of 'I have to go, I have to go _now_'.

It became apparent when Sam started packing his stuff too; wherever he was going, Dean was coming along.

"Sam where're we going?" he pushed in a more demanding tone.

Part of him was getting increasingly worried. Sam didn't look like he had a concussion but maybe he had missed something and now he had a delusional little brother to humour. It was four freakin' am and while he was willing to go along with helping Sam fix whatever had upset him, he needed an answer as to what the hell was going on one way or another, and if that meant dragging the brat to the hospital if he had to, then so be it.

Sam didn't answer, just yanked on his jeans and tossed his brother his, and before Dean knew it the Impala was rumbling beneath them and they were heading through the cool night air to some random spot Sam had pointed to on their ratty old map.

_**TBC... **_

_**Extra note, I hope totally weird and random Sammy visions are okay for you guys, I considered doing ones the same as the show but... that's not very original is it? And the surprise shock factor would be nil! Let me know if it's okay! And ideas? Still all ears! **_


	3. Set in Motion

**Almost 50 reviews in just two chapters? Pinch me I'm dreaming in fanfic heaven! **

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Set in Motion**

"Are you sure this is the place?" Dean looked from his brother's stoic expression to the kids playing in the playground they were parked in front of.

Sam doesn't move, doesn't nod, not even a flicker behind his eyes to tell Dean he's not gone totally insane just yet. All he does is stare at the scene in front of him but it doesn't look like he's seeing anything really, it's a bit freaky to be honest.

"Hey, earth to Sam," Dean snaps his fingers in front of his face. Sam doesn't quite flinch, because he's always expecting a swat or a click of his brothers fingers whenever he pulls back into his own head too much, but Dean thinks the slight reaction he got was a start. "Alright, start talking."

For once Sam did look like he took offence from the phrasing of his command, but he dodged the cold look, focussing on the question at hand.

"Sam I'm not kidding, what the hell are we doing here?"

Sam looked to the hands in his lap, the hands that had refused to stop shaking since he'd woken up from his nightmare, well, not nightmare as such, but that was the word Sam was sticking to for now, it made him feel a little better about the situation.

"Come on man, you're freakin' me out. Why choose for us to travel to this random park at four in the morning? Tell me that and I won't say another word, scouts honour."

Dean could practically hear Sam bitching that he wasn't a scout so it didn't count. Totally does, Dean would reply, if he had the time or the patience.

Sam sighed, it looked more like a wince but that was the most normal thing he'd done in hours.

After what felt like forever, Sam finally dragged his eyes to meet his brothers. Dean saw a number of things on his brother's face- confusion, frustration and exhaustion being a few. Pain littered the faint creases on his forehead- headache and shoulder agony Dean guessed. But above all, he saw fear. Sam had a lot of expressions, a butt load of chick flick emotions, all of them Dean could understand and knew how to deal with for the most part, but fear... that was a toughie.

"It's gonna be alright man," a weak attempt at comfort at best, but the effort would still stand. "Just tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours."

Sam then signed something with his hands, careful with his left so as not to jolt his shoulder. It was a quick action, just one, so Dean guessed it was just one word, that didn't help him know what it was though. Sam might be a pain in the ass geek with a retentive memory most of the time, but when Dean got rusty at something, it took him a little longer to get it back... translating signs for one. They'd been back at it, on the road for about a month now, and he was getting better at recalling signs, but he wasn't perfect yet, not by any means. In his defence, to say there were a lot of words in the English language would be a big understatement.

Sam huffed, aggravated, close to being full on pissed off as he searched in every damn compartment the car had for a pen and some paper.

"Okay relax, we'll go to a motel, they'll have pens and lots'a paper, and more to the point, a bed for you and a place I can take a leak."

Dean didn't know why he'd agreed to come here all this way, he knew how freakin' far it was when Sam pointed on the map, he should have insisted Sam stay in bed 'til morning at least... the _real_ morning that was. His brother needed to be resting up, taking care of his shoulder, not getting his panties in a wad over... well who the hell knows what.

_**SPN**_

Sam remembered the childish immature games Dean used to play. It was somewhere near the beginning - that's what he called the start of his mute thing: 'The beginning'. It was like who he was before then wasn't him, like the hopeless ten year old that came away from the woods that night was somehow born in the woods, and that other kid... he just died there. Call him crazy for thinking that but... it made sense to him.

He remembered Dean sitting down next to him in the motel, he would be watching TV, some cartoon his big brother made fun of him for sometimes. "Was it a good episode?" Dean used to ask first, he would nod, always, no matter if he hadn't even been watching the screen, always he nodded. Then Dean would ask what happened, probably a way to try and get his little brother to talk, and by talk, yes, he did mean with actual words. Every other little ten your old in that instance would babble on about the show like it was the best thing since sliced bread... like what he used to do, sorry... what that _other_ _kid_ used to do.

Instead, Sam's face would light up and he would giggle if he found the particular episode funny or he'd shrug then stare out the window if he hadn't been paying attention and didn't care to laugh that day. The worse the response, the more he pulled back, the more Dean could read that Sam had had a truly sucky day.

Dean then would ask questions like "am I the best big brother in the world?" and because Sam couldn't shake his head- he wasn't that cruel- Dean liked to pretended his blank stare was code for "hells yeah! Dean you're the best!"

Sam was the youngest, but it was Dean that was the big kid at heart, but no matter how annoying those stupid games Dean used to play were, Sam loved his brother for them –though he would never admit it out loud. It kept him sane, kept him feeling normal and he'd give anything to feel that again. To be asked oh so moronically "am I the coolest best bad ass brother ever?"

He felt a buzz in his jacket pocket.

"_Sammy? Where the hell are you? I swear if you're in one piece when I find you, you won't be when I'm through."_

Okay, so maybe while Dean was in the bathroom, running from the motel with a recently relocated shoulder and a killer headache wasn't the best idea. But as he sat on the motel bed staring down at the mud on his shoes, and he felt the pain in his skull spread to his eyes... only one thing came to mind... the park. It obviously hadn't taken Dean long to freak out about the rather empty bed he was meant to be sleeping in right now because Sam only just made it to the park bench.

He deleted the message and waited for the next one. _"Sam I am seriously-" _delete again.._. "Sam you better freakin pray I kill you quick when I-" _delete._ "You son of a-" _delete._ "Sammy... listen just call me back, send me a text, something, just... let me know you're okay."_

Sam smiled, **"I'm fine, just getting some air,"** he pressed send on his text, then went back to watching the kids.

The slight feeling of quietness Sam had been enjoying only lasted a few minutes, when he spotted the boy from his not so dream, his heart plummeted. He had hoped he was just going crazy. Sure the swings were identical, and the slide was a positive match to the images in his head... but that didn't mean it was real... but when he saw the boy, he knew it was all true... it was all too real, or would be sometime soon.

He couldn't take his eyes him, he watched the young boy's every move. It was like when you passed an accident on the road, you don't want to see, but you just can't do anything but.

"Crap," Sam heard the kid grumble as the boy lost his football. The kid sighed when his friends pushed and nudged him- Sam remembered times when Dean used to make him go get the ball too.

Sam bent down a little to grab the ball just before it rolled under the bench he was sitting on. The kid came running up and the young hunter smiled, just a quick 'hey, how you doing kid?' smile. The boy smiled back and extended his arms to accept his toy back. When Sam carried on staring the boy's smile turned into a frown, "What?" he asked with his arms still out, he wasn't shy then. "Can I have my ball back mister?" Not waiting for Sam to hand it to him, the kid snatched it back, but didn't run away. "Why are you staring at me?" Good job the kids parents clearly weren't anywhere close otherwise Sam would be branded a paedo and old women would be whacking him around the head with their purses running him out of town by now.

Trying to salvage himself, Sam just shrugged, tried to turn his head away, look at something else, pretend like he was just gazing around and watching the world go by, but he couldn't.

The boy started to back away cautiously, Sam didn't blame him, if he was kid and had some strange creep staring at him, he'd be cautious too, never mind a strange creepy perv that didn't speak. When he felt the boy's eyes off him, Sam was finally able to watch him again when his back was turned and he was busy playing with friends once more.

It wasn't long later that Sam could hear the familiar rumble of the Impala and then the tread of Dean's boots behind him. His brother didn't announce his entrance but Sam knew he was there... when you didn't speak, you tended to get pretty good at listening, god knows half the time he was Dean's personal therapist. His brother was hovering solidly behind, a good few minutes passed, Sam pretending like he didn't know Dean was there, but all it took when the seventh minute hit was a slight turn of Sam's head for Dean to come sit down next to him.

"Thought you'd be here."

Sam looked at him with a cocked mocking eyebrow, _'why did it take you this long to find me then?'_

"Smart ass," Dean elbowed him in the ribs knowing his brother's hurt shoulder was at the other side of his body.

Sam smirked, but despite Dean best efforts, Sam still managed to twitch painfully a little on his left side.

"You alright?" Sam didn't answer, well, he thought he hadn't. "I'll take that as a no." A few more tense silent minutes passed, it made Dean feel officially uncomfortable. "You still haven't told me what the hell all this is about. I swear man if you don't start talking, I'm dragging your ass to the psych ward."

It was only a half empty threat, Sam wouldn't be going to any room with rubber walls any time soon, even if he was crazy Dean wouldn't let that happen to him, but that didn't mean his big brother wouldn't take him to the nearest hospital to get checked out if he didn't stop to explain just why he was acting so wacko.

_**SPN**_

It was close to night fall when Dean finally pride his brother away from the cold brittle park bench and inside a warm diner for food -and some pills if he could help it.

Sam still hadn't explained his need to sit out and watch a bunch of – as far as Dean was concerned- annoying kids, but Dean was trying to give his brother the benefit of the doubt and wait 'til he was ready, Sam never did well under pressure or badgering, but his long thread of patience was slowly snapping in half.

"Come on, what you gonna have?"

Sam shrugged, his posture and everything about him clearly saying- _'I'm not hungry.'_

Dean looked even less impressed, bordering on irritated when he heard Sam's stomach growl.

"For the love of god Sam, I'm not your damn mother or your baby sitter, just eat somethin' and let's go so I can warm my frozen butt up in the shower." Okay not the most sensitive approach, but sitting on that damn bench for hours made one cranky.

But even though he had good reason to be snappy with his stubborn ass baby brother right now, he couldn't help but feel the stab of guilt when he caught the look of torment behind his brother's eyes when he lifted his head up for the first time since Dean had pushed him to the seat in the booth and rammed the menu in his hand.

"M'sorry man, it's just been a long day." _And I'm worried about you._

Sam's chest heaved as he took in a deep breath and let out slowly. His eye browns curved downwards and his bottom lip bowed out, it wasn't long before his face had reached pouting puppy dog status, you didn't have to be Dean to understand that one- _'I'm sorry too.'_

"Come on, let's get takeout and head back to the motel. You've put this off long enough Sam." _It's not good for you, and it sure as hell ain't good for me._

_**TBC...**_

_**I know this was anticlimactic on the vision front and sort of eventless but... I hope you enjoyed anyway. **_


	4. Don't Panic

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Don't Panic**

There were always three sure signs Sam was feeling down and agitated, one- he'd hang his head so low it was impossible to read his eyes under all those bangs. If Sam didn't get a haircut soon Dean would never be able to tell what was wrong with his brother. Two- he'd sit picking, be it an old scab, loose threads from his shirts that had seen better days, dry skin, or even just perfectly fine skin Sam ended up butchering with his fingernails. Dean had told him time and time again it was really gross, but he'd never been too hard on the kid, after all, when Sam did that, he wasn't in the best of moods was he? And last, but not least- he refused to communicate, he didn't write, didn't sign, he didn't even sigh, and that quite frankly drove Dean nuts but, unfortunately, he was used to it.

"Quit it, I know chicks dig scars but you're going overboard here." Sam stopped his rhythmic picking and dropped his hands after his brother swatted them away. "Alright, look man I know something's going on inside your geeky brain and it's nothing to do with books." Dean took his jacket off, paced a little, then ran his hand through his hair before pacing again. "If you've put it off for this long... you probably don't wanna tell me, usually I'm okay with that, I mean it's your life. But this time I need to know, okay? If we're in this together, I need you to be straight with me about crap that's got us driving to the other side of the country overnight." Sure it was mushy compared to his usual gibes, but over the years he had to learn at times like this to be more careful in his wording because he basically is talking for both of them.

Sam deliberately willed his hands not to move, to tell his brother what was going on with him. Most times he was fine with not speaking, but some things... some things just couldn't be _said _any other way. How can he tell Dean that the boy, the others, were him, were all him... but they weren't. It was a weird feeling all mixed up in the nightmare and the more he tried to figure it out the more this dark, irrational, pit of terror grew in him. How can he let his worried brother know that with a piece of paper and a pen.

Sam felt his eyelids droop, he tried to listen to Dean, he really did, but sleep was calling, it was deep and overpowering and he didn't have the energy to fight it anymore, he'd used it all up just keeping vertical on that bench all afternoon. His body had finally come to terms with the chills rattling his bones and making the throb in his shoulder worse if that was even possible –if you asked him, it, along with the rest of his aches and pains should be numb considering how little he could feel of his toes.

"So, which is it? Pills, shower, or talking first? It doesn't really matter 'cause you're doing all of them tonight at some point whether you like it or not. One- I can feel you vibrating in winces from here, two- you stink and three... –well, three pretty much explains itself."

Dean was too busy babbling, too busy pacing, too busy freaking out to see his brother tilting, inching closer and closer to the side, his head softly landing on the pillow as his lids closed, losing their battle.

When he finally caught on, hearing no sighs or grunting objections, Dean turned around. "Sam are you lis-" despite everything, his promise Sam wouldn't be getting away with stalling any longer, he couldn't help but smile when he saw his sleeping brother. "You suck you know that?" He didn't have the heart to wake him.

Knowing Sam would be paying hell tomorrow if he slept twisted like that all night, Dean walked over, gently pulled Sam's sneakers off, then swung his legs around and up onto the bed where they were supposed to be. Tugging the sheets out from under the dead weight, he tucked them under Sam's chin and left two white pills and a glass of water on the nightstand should Sam wake up in the middle of the night in pain and not have the common sense to wake him. Finally he shut off the lights, pushed his boots off and climbed into his own bed. Tomorrow, Sam was talking, but for now... damn, they both needed sleep.

_**SPN**_

"Dreams?" Dean asked for the third time, stopping his pacing to rub the tension building behind his eye. "You saw Jessica die on the ceiling in a dream?"

Sam nodded like it was the most common thing in the world.

"Before it happened?"

Sam nodded once more.

"Dreams of flames and ceilings and flames and Jess and... before it actually happened?"

Sam chose to just sigh at this point, he knew it was a mistake telling his brother this.

"Are you sure? You're sure this isn't just your brain getting confused, I mean Sammy you've had a ton of nightmares about Jess being pinned to the ceiling since we've been on the road, maybe you're just mixing up time scales and stuff."

Sam scowled at his brother, he's never treated him like a nut case, like everyone else, why was he starting now?

Irritated, he stood and stalked to the door, he needed air, away from Dean, he didn't want to hear any more of this.

"Oh no you don't, you're gonna tell me more about this, kid." Dean caught his arm, his good one thank god, and stood in the way of Sam's exit. "Now you're dreaming about a kid in the park?" the look in Sam's eyes told Dean more than enough, Sam was scared, really scared.

Dean took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead this time. When he thought about what this conversation would go like, he didn't imagine it going down the 'vision' route, this was freaky, even for them. With all the crap going on in their lives, the last thing his brother needed was something else to give him grief.

"This is probably just nothing, I mean so what, you dreamt about some kid needing help, all kids look the same, it's probably not him, I bet the boy in your dream doesn't even exist. It'll just be your freaky geek brain playing tricks."

Sam looked hurt, not because his brother was trying to think of the best rational explanation about what was really going on, but because he wasn't trusting him, couldn't even think outside the box for once.

Sam pulled from his brother's light hold and swung around when Dean tried to grab him again. There was a short shooting pain up his left shoulder as it slammed against the door, but the pain through his arm didn't last long, and that wasn't a good thing. White hot spears dug into his scalp and had him on his knees in seconds.

He could see his brother's mouth moving frantically past the blur that were his eyeballs but he couldn't catch a word of it, the images flashing through his head taking over, dragging him from the safety of reality. Vaguely he could feel his muscles give way and waited for the thump of his body hitting the hard, worn floor.

"Nonono, Sam!"

When Sam's eyes rolled back and his eyes went white, Dean fisted a hand into his brother's shirt and another around his waist, lowering him gently to the ground.

"Sammy? Wake up!" he shook his brother, not caring if he'd regret it later when Sam bitched about his sore shoulder being even more so. Dean felt a stab in his own already throbbing chest when his brother whimpered and tensed in his unconscious state. "Hey, come on!"

What the hell? No, seriously,_ what the hell? _This definitely wasn't your average faint!

"Sam!" not a request this time, an order, and although he did everything in his power to defy their father, Sam always followed his brothers orders, especially good ones like this.

It worked... sort of. Sam let out a long strangled choke as he bolted upwards in his brothers arms but didn't look any more aware than he had a few seconds ago, his long limbs flailing about, close to giving his elder brother a black eye. After he'd done swatting thin air, Sam gripped a hand into whatever was next to him –which happened to be his brother's favourite shirt- clinging to reality before he went limp again. Dean took solace in the fact that at least his eyes weren't white now.

"Sam? You with me?"

Giving his brother a quick shake and tap on the cheek, Dean wished he could just wipe away Sam's dazed, wet eyes and forehead tight with pain. Dean rubbed his knuckles on Sam's sternum knowing the kid always hated that and his efforts were rewarded when it finally did the trick and Sam finally attempted to push himself up from his brother's arms, emphasis on the attempt.

"Alright, take it easy." Dean lifted Sam to lean on the wall, his brother pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them and rested his head on top and Dean kept his contact with a simple palm on his shoulder. '_I'm here.'_ He could speak without words too.

Sam turned into the touch as head became clearer but the pain didn't ease up. '_Thanks_.'

Five minutes later, Sam's panting had stopped, and Dean had reached the end of his rope.

"What the hell was that?"

Sam looked up and motioned for his pad and a pen, writing would be easier than trying to search his brain for the signs 'we have to go save that kid, now.' then there would be the wait for Dean to search his brain too for the meaning of his moving fingers.

"**Foresight? Vision? Premonition?"** He didn't have time for the whole 'this is going to sound crazy,' speech.

"Same as the dream?"

Sam let out the breath of relief he didn't know he was holding when his brother obviously finally got it. He half nodded and half shook his head at the question.

"Wanna elaborate?" Dean tapped the paper and Sam got to writing again.

"**We have to go to the park, that kid is in danger."**

Dean knew the second the pad was shoved in his hands, that meant Sam was going to try and stand himself. He tossed it aside and held onto Sam's good arm to steady him, not to mention himself.

"Hold on Sparky, just... give me a minute to process this please, it's not every day you find out your freak brother gets visions of the future."

He only had to glance at Sam's face to get the answer to that one. '_We don't have time.'_

Following his brother rather than his gut, when he was sure Sam wouldn't topple over when he let go, he released his arm and let Sam leave the motel, following close behind.

"If this turns out to be a bust, I'm gonna kick your ass into next week before I have you sectioned. Got it bitch?"

Translation: please god let this be a bust and don't you ever do that to me ever again little brother.

_**SPN**_

Yellow tape- that was the first thing that caught Dean's eye as they pulled up at the side of the park. Yellow tape with police wrote in big bold black letters on repeat, that only meant one thing, crime scene, and a crime scene also _usually_ only meant one thing, a dead body.

He looked over, Sam was shivering in cold sweats, trembling even with the heating on full. His eyes were wet, his expression something horrific. _'Were too late.'_

"Come on, let's go check it out." Dean patted his brothers then opened his door, glad when he heard a creak at the other side of the car too as he slammed his door shut.

He didn't bother with the fake badges today, Sam looked like hell and he wasn't sure he looked any better. In their state, they wouldn't be on duty today, but no one could question passersby with curiosity too big for their own good.

Spotting a slightly freaked but not too traumatised thirty something woman close to the tape, Dean strolled over, keeping one eye on her and the other on his stumbling brother behind.

"What happened?" he asked with his best 'intrigued yet sympathetic' voice.

"A body was found in the far end of the trees, a little boy, wild animal they're saying."

Dean looked to his brother, Sam looked back, _'wild animal my ass.'_

"That's horrible, who found him?"

"That old guy over there," Dean looked where she was pointing, "his dog smelt something and came running back covered in the boys blood." That old guy looked ready to have a heart attack if he hadn't already had one- strapped to a gurney with an oxygen mask covering most of his face, no chance in talking to him them. The dog, nowhere to be seen.

"Man, I think I'd need an ambulance too if I found a dead body, especially a kid."

One more glimpse at Sam, Dean knew it was time to cut the chat short, after excusing himself, they slipped away back into the car and drove away back to the motel without another word.

"You alright man?" he asked after shutting off the engine.

Sam shook his head, Dean didn't expect him to be.

**TBC...**

_**Important A/N!**_

_Give me ideas and I'll write them, I have truly lost the plot on this story, if it ever had one! In fact, no, never had one! _

_Please tell me something or this is sorta going down the drain. I really don't want to for you guys but this might be going into indefinite hiatus. _

_I'm writing and it's going nowhere, it's just coming out with no thought of the future what so ever, it's just type as I go along. Have I mentioned how much I hate writing with no ideas of the beginning, middle and end of the story? I am just stuck, I got nothing! HELP! _


	5. Blindsided

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Blindsided **

It was now starting to go dark, they had gotten back to the motel a few hours ago and frankly, Dean was starting to get worried, he had pushed his own panic off for his brother's sake, and rightfully so. Sam hadn't moved since they got back, all he did was stare at the bald carpet, his shoulders tight, hands tangled together even tighter. Everything Dean tried had failed - Sam didn't want to eat, didn't want to take a shower, didn't even want to make eye contact. This was more than a little misery, not that Dean could blame him.

"Come on man, you gotta take 'em."

Sam shook his head.

"_Please_," Dean tried one last time.

Again, his brother refused. Dean knew Sam hated pills, hated the way they made his head feel, hated that they gave his already freaky dreams an even freakier twist (if that was even possible) and he hated that food shovelling and pill swallowing were the only things he actually used his throat for. Yeah okay, so he more than hated them, but this was just getting beyond ridiculous at this point.

"I've asked you nicely, and it's obviously falling on deaf ears, so I'm going to make this simple- we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You take your pills now like a good little boy, or I can force your freakin' jaw open and shove them down your throat until you've got no choice but to swallow." Okay, that was a little harsh even he had to admit, but he wasn't exactly having a rosy time this week either, and Sam sitting frozen on the motel bed in pain wasn't exactly helping.

Sam didn't even spare him a glare as he chugged back the pills and swallowed them down with the water on the side- okay, maybe Dean was a little more ruthless than he thought.

"Good, that wasn't so hard was it Sammy boy?" he nudged his brother on his good side waiting for the scowl of 'it's Sam,' but again he got nothing and started to worry a little more.

Breaking his no chick flick moment rule for the only person he'd always make the exception, Dean reached over and did something he hadn't done since Sam was about fourteen- he cupped his brothers chin with one hand and ran his other across the kid's overly long bangs, swiping them out of the way. He argued to himself it was so he could see Sam's eyes, read him, but he knew it was really a comforting gesture his little brother never could resist.

He smiled a little when his brother finally looked up, _mission accomplished._

"This about the kid?"

Pill talk over, Dean was now onto the subject of Sam's gloomy mood. It was like he had a rainy cloud pouring down over his head, and the grey walls in the motel certainly weren't helping lift either of their spirits.

Sam's eyes met his. _'Yup.'_

"You know we can't save everyone, right? I mean dad taught us that much, sometimes all we can do isn't enough. It sucks, but that's just the way it is."

His little brother's eyes curved downwards. _'I know. But it doesn't make me feel any better.'_

Dean patted his leg. "I know, kiddo."

Sam would have teased Dean religiously for that kiddo remark, but not today, today he just ducked his head again and sighed, suddenly feeling drowsier than he'd like to admit. What had Dean given him?

"Alright, try and get some sleep, I'll wake you in a few hours and we can go get some dinner." Yep, Dean had definitely slipped him more than just a couple of pain pills.

Regardless of wanting to kick his brother's ass right now, Sam merely nodded, too sleepy to argue, he kicked his sneakers off and shuffled under the covers once Dean had moved from his bed. As he walked away to lay on his own, Sam grabbed his brother's wrist.

'_Wake me if anything happens.'_

Dean nodded, "Night Sammy."

_**SPN**_

Sam was rudely awoken by his brother talking oh so loudly to someone on the phone, obviously a woman, and definitely someone he was trying to pick up.

"Why thank you Jackie, that is awfully kind of you. Okay, I'll see you later, alright... bye."

He groaned when he rolled over onto his bad side, trying to lift the pillow over his head to block out the noises.

"Nice to see you moving, Rip van Winkle."

Sam huffed again, giving up on attempting to go back to sleep and turned towards his brother tip tapping on his laptop. His eyes went wide when he noted it was daylight outside - wasn't it pitch black when he went to sleep?

"You've been out for ten hours if you must know, it's about half seven in the morning."

_Guess I missed dinner._

"And yes, you missed dinner," Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. "It's waiting on the table if you're hungry."

God, he was starving.

He managed to stumble out from the warmth of his bed and over to the rickety table, wincing when a loud creak rang out as he took the brown bag of grease into his hand. The harsh kick he gave the closest leg didn't go unmissed. Dean had shoved three newspapers under the shortest of the uneven legs the second they got in the room, how could it still be wobbling so damn loud?

"Someone's Mr. Cranky-Pants this morning," the eldest Winchester joked with a grin that only got wider when Sam flipped him off. To most people Dean might seem a tad too perky considering his brother just assaulted a table solely because it creaked a little, but cranky Sammy was definitely a step up from where he was before his little 'power nap.'

Sam sat eating his bacon and egg sandwich, taking note it was still warm, meaning his brother had only just come back from the diner, probably hadn't left the motel all night. But Sam didn't comment, though he tucked away that little kindness with all the others that made him feel loved, made him remember there was one person in the world that would always have his back and never treat him like the retard everyone else did. He just listened as Dean filled him in on his latest research and his nice chat with Jackie, the 'gorgeous brunette lady cop that would appreciate the size of his gun' (Dean's words, not his).

"There's been a total of five deaths in the last two years - all small towns like this one, all in this state. Same M.O- little kids, ripped to shreds in the woods or parks. So far we've got one death here, so my guess is it's only a matter of time before more kids show up... well, you know."

Yeah, Sam knew how they showed up, he'd seen it in his freakin head!

"So, I've got a few theories, first being a werewolf."

Sam turned his nose up in a mocking fashion as he pointed to the window where barely there lace curtains hung open and limp. The moon had been a sliver -if that- last night, definitely not a werewolf.

"Yeah I know, genius, I did say theories."

Sam rolled his eyes again.

"You wanna hear the rest or not?" Dean grumbled sending a warning look to the kid on his right when he motioned for him to carry on. "Next _theory, _skin-walker, they like to tear people up right? And they don't have to stick to a cycle, which means more deaths, and gives our jobs a little more flavour of our favourite seasoning 'pain in the ass', as if we need it."

That didn't really do anything for Sam clearly, so Dean carried on.

"Uh, demon, I don't really have any narrowing's down on that one, demons like to do whatever the hell they like, each and every one of them as bitchy and competitive as the last. Uh, Hell Hounds, Wendigo's... Black Dogs," Dean finished with a mumbled awkward tone, he looked over to his brother who flinched at even the mention of them. He hissed himself as Sam shook off the building fear.

No use in asking if his little brother was alright, he'd just nod yes as always. Besides, if it was a Black Dog in Sam's vision, Dean would know about it, yeah... definitely not a Black Dog, moving on...

"And last, but by no means least, a Black Annis."

Sam's head was up and he was over at the research in a second when he heard the last theory. He picked up the papers Dean had scrounged up from their dad's journal and looked closely at the picture before nodding and tapping it frantically.

"You sure?"

Sam nodded, he didn't know how to explain it, but something inside him was favouring the old Annis hag. She felt scarily familiar and honestly, Sam didn't blame the flicker of 'freak out' that swept past his brothers eyes, he was pretty sure he had his own flicker too.

"Alright, Black Annis," Dean scrolled down the page on the laptop and started reading. "Also known as Black Agnes,abogeyman figure in English folklore. She's imagined as a blue-faced crone or witch with iron claws and a taste for human flesh, especially children's. Lovely," Dean complimented with attitude knowing his brother was thinking the same thing as he tossed away what was left of his sandwich. "She is said to haunt the countryside, living in a cave with an oak tree at its entrance. Sounds cosy. She supposedly goes out onto the valleys at night looking for unsuspecting children and lambs to eat, then tanning their skins by hanging them on a tree before wearing them around her waist. Okay, I think that's sick enough for me."

Dean closed the laptop and snatched the journal from his brother before snapping that shut too. It was his way of announcing he was pleased enough with Sam's gut/vision whatever feeling, to believe this thing could be a Black Annis. Children, ripped apart, missing bits of flesh, small town with plenty of countryside to go around, it all fit. Whatever Sam was tripping on, Dean almost wanted a share. But it was too selfish, too sick, to think this new little super-power of Sam's would come in handy on hunts. Despite its usefulness, Dean and Sam both prayed this was a one time, freaky, never to happen again thing.

"You feel up to a little hunting in the park tonight?"

Up to it or not, Sam was going.

_**SPN**_

Not that he liked to admit it, but whatever Dean had given him the night before had done the trick, sure he still ached, but he was feeling more like himself at last. Then again, drug induced slumber on top of exhaustion probably lead to dreamless peaceful sleeping; when your mind ran as much as his had in the last few days, it needed a damn break, and Sam wasn't complaining one bit.

After lunch they had managed to find the stomach to research some more on the Black hag, mostly to find her Achilles Heel, the result- silver and exposure to sunlight.

It wasn't long before they were packed and ready with enough weapons to put down an Annis the size of a cow.

"Okay, stay close Melinda Gordon, we got no idea what this hag is gonna react like with your new magic tricks."

Dean felt a swat on the back of his head, but it was totally worth it for the bitch look he could practically feel on Sam's face right now, his eyes boring into the back of his head. Yeah, totally worth it! Besides, joking always staved off anxiety, so Dean would mock his brother for his little fainting spell for as long as he liked, that kid had some serious brownie points to earn back for that one.

"Hey, stay close," he hissed when Sam started to drift off in his own curious direction. He shot his brother a warning look when he rolled his eyes for about the millionth time, that kid's eye sockets got more of a work out than Muhammad Ali's knuckles.

A sudden moan was all it took for him to drop his smirk and turn to his brother with a concerned brow.

_Not again_, he cursed when he saw Sam's free hand pressed to his forehead and his mouth pitched in pain. He grabbed a hold of the nearest forearm to keep Sam steady, but had no choice but to drop his gear when Sam's legs gave out and he was plummeting to the cold hard ground with no control over his body.

"Sam! Sam, not here, please man, come on," he mumbled tugging his little brother to his chest, waiting for him to come around. Nothing he tried last time had worked until the vision ended, so this time maybe he wouldn't shake Sam quite so hard and maybe he wouldn't panic and yell too loud.

Sam didn't whimper as much as the last one, but that wasn't a good thing, he looked like he was choking on screams.

"_Noooo!" he fought the restraints, yanking on the ropes that held his arms above his head on a hook. He __could__ feel her long talons brushing across his skin with the lightest touch that still br__oke__ his skin and tiny drops of blood seeped from the cut on his abdomen. _

"_Hush pretty lamb, you've been a naughty boy and naughty boys need to be punished."_

"_No, don't! Please!" _

His back arched up, the scream dying on his silent lips before he finally went limp and his eyes opened, his brothers worried face hovering close above.

"What did you see?"

Sam didn't have time to answer, didn't have time to wait for the nausea and pain to pass, he swallowed them all down and stood abruptly from his brother before staggering to where he knew the creepy bitch was. This was too easy, had to be, knowing exactly where she was, being just minutes away from her nest and knowing exactly how to kill her before anyone else got hurt. But the paper thin cut he could feel under his belly button told him otherwise - maybe he wouldn't tell Dean about that one. At least he got out before the deep, blood-curling slice became real too.

The pack he himself had dropped was pushed back into his hands and off they went. Though he had some explaining to do when all this was over, he was just glad his big brother was following his lead for now.

_**SPN**_

"Can you feel it or something?" Dean asked when his brother seemed to know exactly where he was going even though the forest was getting thicker and twistier the longer they went on.

Sam shrugged, _'something like that.'_

"Well, shriek like a girl when you know she's near."

Just as the words left his lips, a too close screech rang out and bristled the tree branches in its wake. Dean cursed himself for the smart ass words that jinxed them.

"Show time?" Dean looked to his left where Sam was standing by his side. "Sam?" he looked around, what the hell did he always tell that kid about not wandering off! Had he taught him nothing?

Cranking his neck backwards to see if Sam was standing behind only to find empty air, he then did a full circle on the spot, shining his flashlight in the distance before heading into more twists in search of his brother.

"Sam!" he turned back around and passed where he'd just come from before searching in the opposite direction. "Sammy!" Shit, this was bad. Oh this was so very not good.

_**TBC...**_

_*Iz tired, head hurts, can't wait for reviews and wants to speed up waiting time*_ Off to take nap.


	6. The color of a Deep Crimson Red

**Happy SPN Friday gang! **

_**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **_

**The color of a Deep Crimson Red**

Most people looked at Sam and thought he was pretty pathetic, retarded, stupid, some even thought he was autistic and a few over the years when they saw the two of them together, working in sync, had commented... _complimented_ Dean on looking after Sam's 'needs' so well. Little did they know from the age of about fourteen, Sam could handle himself in some pretty dangerous fights and kick ass with the best of them. But when it came down to it, rule number one was always, if your opponent is stronger, more powerful and overall better than you, _run. _You don't mess around planning some cunning heroic attack - if you know you don't have a snowball in hells chance of surviving the fight, you run like your freakin' life depends on it, because it literally did at that point. One thing bugged him though, something he'd never really had the issue in dealing with before- how do you run when you're trapped in a cave, bleeding and strung up with no room to even attempt to wriggle free? Maybe he missed training the day his dad taught that one.

And fuck his shoulder burned, he was pretty sure it had come out of place again, remind him next time to request his hands be tied in front of him or by his sides.

His breathing hitched when the Black Annis ran her talons across his naked abdomen once more, a perfectly straight, bare inch slit appeared in his skin under his belly button. He bit his lip as the nail got deeper into his flesh, moving back and forth, back and forth, picking away at his skin as it was slowly cut away from his stomach muscles, mere agonizing millimetres every few minutes. He choked another breath in when her claw finally pulled away, but he didn't give her any more than that, though in his head he was screaming, _no, no, no_ as she started on another cut over the ribs on his side.

"Speak lamb, I know you want to." Her voice was a slow purr, a sick attempt to be seductive.

_No, I don't._

"You always want to, you want to speak to your brother, you want to have the strength to create words the way they were meant to be."

_No, I fucking don't._

"You wanted to tell him about the messages I've been giving you this past week, you wanted him to believe you, hear the seriousness and sincerity in your voice. If he had, if you could have made him trust you sooner, then maybe you could have saved that sweet, innocent boy."

Just as he was starting to get used to the steady dull torture, a sharp quick slice to the middle of his chest caught him off guard and a loud hiss came from his lips. Once he'd caught his breath, he looked down, the newest cut was deeper and it burned for longer even though her nails weren't digging into this one, the slit ran about four inches down his sternum and seeped blood, but certainly not the most out of all his cuts.

"You're afraid," she sounded like she had genuine compassion in her voice now.

_I'm trapped in a dingy cave with the female, far less friendly and __far more __perverted version of Edward Scissorhands, I think if the situation were reversed you'd be a little skittish right now too you old bitch. Not to mention you just told me you've been getting inside my head sending me freaky visions._

"You're afraid if you speak, the monster that took your missing piece, would come back and take the rest."

_Oh shut up, I got a freakin' full ride to Stanford lady, no way even my subconscious is stupid enough to believe that. It's dead, has been for a long time. _

"Yes, but nothing is ever really dead is it?"

_Oh super, she can read minds, or maybe it's just written all over my face. Dean always said I was like an open book with my bitch faces sometimes._

"Evil is like energy, it changes, it mutates, it grows or it weakens, but it's never completely destroyed. It's always out there somewhere, and it can always come back."

_That black dog son of a bitch is rotting __i__n hell thank you very much._

"It rots in hell, you're right, but so does your missing piece the being dragged into the flames with it."

_Oh, reading minds... check. _The glare he gave her would have made Dean proud.

She carried on toying with Sam's flesh as she purred on. "You were told to stop screaming, you were told not to speak, you were told not to make a sound, and you followed those orders. You hate yourself for obeying a monster so much easier than you ever obeyed your father, and even your brother."

_Shut up._

"And Jessica, she suffers even to this day because you are so compliant to sin, you didn't even allow yourself to scream for help, for her, the one you loved more than air, and you still refused to defy evil."

_I mean it, I'm getting angry._

"Every saved innocent, every future possible fewer fatalities, all of them, it's all your brother. He wasn't around to save Jessica, you were, you could have saved her, and you didn't, just as always."

_Shut the fuck up!_

"You know it's only a matter of time before what happened to your beloved, happens to Dean too, your father, and every other person in your life. You know you can't save them, because you never save anyone."

"Gggyaaahhhhhyg!" he screamed as her sharpest talon was speared directly through his hip and back out again in one excruciating thrust . Blood spilled from both holes, on his front and on his back. His throat burned like fire at the sudden deafening noise that erupted from his lips for the first time in thirteen years.

"There, your first act of naughtiness and all it took was pain, your pain- I think that says something, don't you? Didn't your brother once tell you how self-centred you were? Well... it's true isn't it? You. Are. Selfish. Sammy Winchester. And that will be the death of everyone you care about."

A single tear slipped past the mask and down his left cheek.

"Speak."

_No._

"Speakkk..." she hissed close to his ear, breathing down his neck with her rank breath.

_No._

_S_he plunged another of her talons straight through both of his hands that were tied together above his head, and he had no choice but to obey her last order. "Scream..." and he did.

_**SPN**_

"Sam! Come on man, give me a sign!" Not that Sam had been missing much in the past, but it was times like this that really sucked that he didn't speak or make much noise. It made things just a little harder when Dean searched to find him. He really should have insisted the kid carried a whistle.

After his mini freak out, which he had totally earned what with Sam's visions and all that crap and now him going missing, Dean had managed to pull it together and see drag marks on the ground not far from where he'd been searching. He had followed them eagerly into more dark woods but when he came to a secluded damp cave, the tracks disappeared. Fast forward half an hour and now here he was, lost in some dingy hole, still missing a brother.

"Dude, I came to this stinkin' town with you, no way I'm leaving without, besides, I owe you a serious ass kicking for giving me grey hairs early."

He continued to talk to his brother as if he needed coaxing out of some safe haven. Which he might, Sam hated caves, refused to go near them unless his brother swore he could see light at the other end before going in. Plus, it was pretty boring in the woods on your own, so even if Dean was technically talking to himself, at least he had company.

He cursed when he hit a dead end. God knows where his brother was in this maze.

_Screw this._ "SAM! _SAM, Saaaam, saaam, saaa..._" he turned his head in the direction his echoes were going and followed his own voice as far as it went. "Sammy!" he yelled once again and walked around the twists and climbed over the rocks. "Yooo Sammy-o. _Yoooo Sammy-o, oooo Sammy-, oooo Sammm.._."

He followed the voice in the distance for a good few minutes until he realize he was no longer yelling, it wasn't his bellows he was following... so if it wasn't him... it must be... "SAMMYYY!"

"_Gaahhhhhhhhhhhgggg_..."

"Sammy... oh, shit, shit shit shitshitshit!" Sam was screaming, blood curdling screams, Dean hadn't heard the sound in almost fifteen years, but he didn't need experience to know that that was his brother, and fuck he must be in pain if he was making horrific sounds that loud.

He stumbled and sprinted through the rock boulders, doing everything in his power not to have a mental breakdown thinking of what shape his brother would be in when he found him, that didn't matter, whatever it was he could fix it, just like he always did. It was his job, watch out for Sammy, look after Sammy, take care of Sammy; it was what he was born to do.

"Nnaaaa!"

Dean could hear him clearly now, nothing but air standing between them, he had to be close.

"Sammy!"

"You're going to die here little lamb, you're going to die screaming, just as it was always meant for you. Just as you always _knew_ it would end for you," he heard the hag say, taunting his brother with cruel words just as sharp as her talons were said to be. Then he saw a glowing light from what looked like a fire burning. Yep, definitely close. It was just a pin prick of candle fire really, very miss-able to most people, but Dean wasn't most people.

"Nnggrrr..." Sam was biting his lip, he was screaming with his jaw wired shut, a defence so the bitch wouldn't get the satisfaction she wanted. _That's my boy._ "Mmhhggaaahh!" Dean's stomach plummeted as he ran as Sam's jaw gave up the fight.

"You can do it, you can speak selfish lamb, I know you can, for me... speak for _meee_."

"Nnaaa...ggahh... NOOO!"

Dean rounded a corner just in time for her to pierce his brothers abdomen clean through his whole body.

"Take that thing out and get the hell away from my brother you sick fuck!"

Despite his pain and the tear tracks down his face, Sam lifted his head from his chest and smirked. _You're in for it now__,__ bitch._

"Deannn..." she smiled. "I was just in the middle of helping your brother come to terms with his worst fears, we're making excellent progress."

"Take those out, now."

"And who do you think you are?" she asked as if she were a school teacher and he was a mere bratty child.

She retracted her claws from one Winchester only to impale them in another. Luckily Dean had seen it coming and dodged them enough to only have his clothing ripped and not his skin. The talon on her forefinger had pinned his shirt to the rocks behind him so he swiftly snapped it off to break free and soaked up her screams as black fluid – what he assumed was her blood - streamed from the now missing claw. He backhanded her in her chalk blue face and kicked her in the gut hard enough she fell to the ground, giving Dean the opportunity to stand on the rest of her nails on the damaged hand, snapping and shattering them under his boots. She wailed once more before he silenced her for good with a full clip of silver bullets in her head.

"I'm your worst fucking nightmare, bitch," he spat standing over her form as it liquefied into nothing more than a sickening puddle of bile.

A scratchy voice brought Dean back to what he came here to do. "No."

"Sammy?" he turned around and practically leapt forward when he saw the mutilated body that was his brother.

"No, nonononononono," he sobbed shaking his head back and forth, pulling on the ropes that held his bleeding hands together. It broke Dean's heart that the first real words his brother spoke in over half his life were words of sorrow and pain and desperation.

"Hey hey hey, shh, I know man, I'm here."

"N-noo..."

"I know, let's get you down." Dean reached behind his back to take the blade from his belt.

He cut Sam down trying to block out the mews and struggling from his younger brother as he finally got him free.

"Jesus, sorry," he winced when he felt Sam's shoulder bone click back into place for the second time that week.

_God Sammy__,__ you're freezing._

"It's okay, you're alright," he chanted lowering Sam to the floor before shrugging off his jacket and placing it gently over his shaking shoulders mindful of his injuries. "I'll get you outta here, just gimme a minute," he promised, carefully rubbing his thumb on Sam's bleeding cheek.

Not having anticipated many injuries tonight, they hadn't brought any bandages in their pockets, just guns and spare bullets, never again, Dean vowed.

"Okay, let's take a look." He lifted the edges of the jacket but kept it on his brother as best he could. The flickering candles all around let Dean examine his brother though it was hardly as if it was clear as day in the dingy cave. Multiple cuts, blood, punctures and way out of his league was Dean's conclusion. Most of them wouldn't be that bad when they had a few stitches in them, even the ones that had Sam's skin hanging limp from bone he could handle, but the holes, although small, were still holes. They ran deep, straight through Sam's body, and Dean wasn't taking any chances because there were numerous vital organs in those areas that also might have leaks in them.

Sam managed to gather the strength to tug on Dean's arm to get his attention. _'How's it look?'_

"You've had worse."

Sam winced, his eyes clearly expressing the words- _'that bad__,__ huh?'_

Not wasting any more time, Dean took off his shirt and tied it around his brother's torso where the heaviest bleeding was. He straightened out the leather jacket on Sam's shoulders once more.

"You're paying for the dry cleaning bill for my jacket."

Sam let out a sound halfway between a snort and a sob.

"Okay, let's get you outa here huh?"

Dean guided Sam's right arm over his shoulders, mumbling apologies when he heard Sam hiss and sob as he lifted him from the ground to stand shakily on his feet.

"Good boy Sammy, one foot in front of the other."

When Dean thought it was challenging to get into the cave, he hadn't thought about how hard it would be to get out with his stumbling brother in his arms. He was just glad he had some very obvious tracks to follow - his.

When he finally felt a breeze from the night air at the opening of the cave, he had never been happier to feel bitter cold on his bare arms.

"I'm gonna set you down here for a second dude." Dean lowered Sam to the ground and propped his back up against the rocks they had just sprung from. He pulled out his cell and dialled 911. He didn't want to scare Sam earlier, but his injuries were just too much to handle alone with their makeshift clinic in a red box and a bottle of whiskey. He should probably get away from here with Sam, go to the Impala, make it easier for the emergency services to find them, but Sam just couldn't walk anymore, he felt it when he helped Sam to the floor. He felt the relief of a break and the frustration from needing one.

Once he'd done on the phone, after explaining to some imbecile where they were at least four times and that his brother needed help freakin' fast, Dean noted the sweat dripping from Sam's gaunt pale face. Blood loss was taking over and shock was setting in.

"Hey! Stay awake Sammy."

Sam grunted low, his face no longer able to give any sort of message for him.

"I mean it, Sam. Open your eyes."

Screw waiting for the ambulance to find them, he had to get Sam some help, now.

"Up you come."

Half carrying Sam, half dragging him, Dean made short work of meeting up with the Impala again, it was amazing what that whole fight or flight response did to boost your survival skills, or in this case, his brothers. Dean packed Sam in the passenger seat with a pile of gauze pressed to his wounds. Speed limits were treated like mild suggestions as Dean drove, pushing the car as much as possible on the curvy roads. He had a race to run and losing wasn't an option.

_**TBC...**_

**Off to bed for me. Have a wonderful weekend x Chow.**


	7. I watched a Change in You

_**Sorry guys, I'm in a serious funk here, this is the last chapter I wrote before my brick wall hit so I thought I'd post in time for Christmas!**_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**I watched a Change in You**

Dean had wandered the halls, looking for every damn security camera in the building and carefully avoided them all. Sam had yet to come back from surgery, but as soon as he had done sleeping off the anaesthesia in recovery, Dean was going to kick his ass for this.

The 'animal' attack had left Sam with several deep lacerations that would scar like hell for a few years, and to top it all off the last Hag nail had punctured his kidney. The surgeon said usually they preferred to wait for the hole to heal on its own as it wasn't that big and over time, a few weeks of rest and medications, his kidney would be fine and hole free. But of course only Sam could have gotten a puncture that clipped a vein so they were forced to take him off to the OR, much to Sam's displeasure.

On a lighter note, no one yet had picked up Sam's lack of speech. Sometimes people didn't, Dean talked so much and spoke almost both sides of conversations, no one realized the lack of one voice in the discussion. Although Dean knew Sam felt suffocated by his babbling sometimes, the days when people just got along with their jobs and didn't eye his brother like he was nuts, were always better days.

Just as Dean eyed the last camera that wouldn't be causing them any problems now, he overheard someone down the hall, the most distinctive words of their sentence being 'Samuel Adams' 'strange' and 'why can't the others heal that fast?' _Okay Sammy, what have you been getting up to now?_ He frowned deeply, then made his way to recovery where his brother was apparently being wheeled at this very moment.

The cranky orderlies gave Dean some lip about how he wasn't supposed to go back there, but hell, he was always there waiting for Sammy as he opened his eyes when he was little, it wasn't going to change now just because the kid qualified as an adult in other people's eyes. Eventually, knowing he wasn't going to back down, Dean was allowed through and as always he was the first one Sam saw when he opened his blurry eyes.

"Morning princess."

Despite the drugs, despite the pain, despite the new ache in his eyes, Sam scowled.

"Can I take a look?" Dean didn't want to worry before he had a chance to see this 'unusual healing' himself and he wasn't explaining it to Sam before he absolutely had to either. Maybe the nurse down the hall had the wrong patient or maybe Sam's obsession with eating like a rabbit did have an upside. "I just wanna see what your cool scars are gonna look like," Dean explained with a cocky grin when his brother frowned in confusion and worry.

Carefully lifting the covers, and tugging up the hospital gown, Dean was able to see the mass of gauze covering the wounds in all their glory; all the blood cleaned up and washed away didn't help tone it down. Gently peeling away one of the smaller patches, he was shocked to see no cut where it was supposed to be. Thinking the hospital staff must be morons for covering a space that didn't have any injury in sight, he peeled away another strip where he distinctively remembered there being a painfully deep slash. It took three more removals of gauze for Dean to come to terms with what he was seeing, or rather what he wasn't.

"Shit man, I don't know what that thing did to you, but it's gone, all of it, not a scratch in sight."

Sam swallowed in panic, maybe to most people having a monster rip you to ribbons and then be healed of everything but the actual pain was a good thing, but Winchesters always knew there was a catch in everything in life.

Dean looked at his brother's face, it was always more difficult to read Sam when he was hurting because that generally took over all the usual tell tale signs- difficult but not impossible. Right now not only did Sam have pain etched into his forehead, but panic, confusion and something else he'd never seen before and didn't even have a title for yet. But underneath all that he still saw what Sam was telling him, _'We need to leave, now.'_

"Agreed."

They waited for Sam to be transferred from recovery to his cubicle and pretended to listen as the doctor lectured them about the bleeder being repaired, the astonishing rate of wound repair and the need to keep Sam for further observation. Dean's ears perked up at that.

"I can't let you go without Sam's consent."

"He's given you his consent, he just said he wants to go."

"No, you told me your brother wants to leave, he said no such thing." _And there it was._

"Sammy, you wanna leave?"

Sam nodded, his expression never faltering as he switched his certain gaze between his brother and the doctor.

"Why do you want to leave, son? You've only just gotten out of surgery. You might have healed in a phenomenal time but I'd still like to keep you for a few more days to run some tests."

Dean cleared his throat in a threatening manner, his voice far from soothing, "Treat him like a lab rat more like."

"It's my professional opinion that you should stay here."

_Damn it, couldn't he have just stuck to yes or no questions?_

Sighing, Sam signed just one word Dean knew loud and clear. **'Home.' **Sam wanted to go home, they might not have a permanent residence, four walls and a mail box, but Dean knew what his brother meant.

The doctor was frowning, clearly he wasn't one of those that knew sign language.

"He said he wants to go home."

"Why didn't you tell us about your brother's condition earlier, this could have serious implications on his treatment, and could provide us with greater insight into his amazing recovery. Is he on any medication?"

"What? No! Sam's not whacko or on any medication, he's mute, that's all." This guy wasn't going to accept the 'he just doesn't talk much' story so the truth would be quicker.

"Before I release him I'd like to know more about the history of his-"

"No, you give us those AMA papers and a wheelchair right now or I'm going to carry him to my car myself."

Luckily, for the doctor's sake, he handed them the papers.

Not wasting any time as they waited for a nurse and a chair, Dean took out his brother's sneakers from the bag he'd been carrying for the last three hours, helped him out of the hospital gown and into some sweats and a hoodie and then lifted him from the bed.

"Sorry man," he apologized when Sam hissed in pain.

Sam looked back at him_, 'it's okay.'_ The chair finally came, and not ten minutes later they were speeding down the highway, putting the cock-eyed town in their rear-view mirror.

_**SPN**_

In a brand new state, in a brand new motel, Dean watched as Sam shivered once again though he was swaddled in the bed covers. Sam knew he was watching, always knew, he could fool him sometimes, but this was not one of them, may as well just get it over with. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, Sam looked over at his brother. _'Don't feel so good.'_

"I know kiddo, we'll get you fixed up soon, huh?" Dean tucked another blanket around his brother and gave him a brief check before going back to his research.

Prior to the third day of bed rest, Sam had been bitching about being fine, they could move on, find another job, but Dean refused because one- he would like to know how on god's green earth Sam was better all of a sudden. And two- he'd like to know why his brother appeared to be fine on the outside, but every time he shifted his face paled and beads of sweat gathered around his mouth as though all of the wounds were still there. Going to the bathroom was like hell, for the both of them.

But they'd had hellish trips from comfy beds to dingy bathrooms before when they had been injured in the past, and even though it was almost never, when their dad got hurt, that was hard work getting him to the toilet in time even with the both of them carrying him, dad was a big dude.

Like he said, they'd done all that crap before, but when that third day came around, things took a turn for not only the worse, but the impossible too. It began with shivers, tiny trembles through Sam's lanky frame every few minutes that drove Dean insane until he asked his brother "What the hell, Sammy?" surely the kid wasn't that agitated to leave the motel.

Sam brushed him off repeatedly - which wasn't surprising - until he felt something twist inside his chest. The first wriggle, he thought was his imagination, the second he was convinced he was going insane, the third and he'd had enough, he pulled down the covers and lifted his t-shirt hoping to find nothing, letting out a strangled sob when his hopes were shattered. Ropy blue veins knitted their way across his chest, right where he still felt the stitched cut, some were small, others were not, and although slowly, Sam could see the veins were growing.

"Holy shit," was the only thing Dean had to offer at the time until he saw the look of complete terror in his brother's eyes and he got to work on research.

_Black Annis veins, Black Annis toxins, Black Annis infections, Black Annis blood poisoning_**-** all came up blank, there was just no record anywhere of old hags leaving their victims with freaky chalk blue veins growing inside them. So he tried typing in _supernatural blue veins, healed wounds, fever, poison_. Anything with blue and supernatural in it at the moment would do... but still, he got jack.

Their dad's journal also came up with nothing, he'd never come across a Black Annis before by the looks of things because it wasn't anywhere in the book, not even a similar creature that could provide a lead. The only page that did catch Dean's eye was the list of contacts, it was just a small list but it hadn't been touched in years. It just wasn't what the Winchesters did, they sorted out their own problems by themselves, because the only ones you could truly trust, is family. The last time they let that rule slip, Sam was handed back to them changed forever. No, Dean couldn't call anyone on that list, he wouldn't, it would betray Sam, and everything all of them stood for. There was only one person he could call. He had tried his dad at least three times, maybe the fourth would be the charm.

"_This is John Winchester, I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean- 785 555 0179. He can help."_

"Hey dad, it's me, again. Sammy's not doing good, I can't find anything on what could be doing this to him. He needs help dad, you gotta come, I don't know what to do." He cut the message off before the real tears started.

His tiny chick flick tantrum was forgotten when Sam let out a strangled sob of his own. "Sammy, breathe man, it's alright, just breathe," Dean coached through another bout of harsh shivers he knew must be painful because tears welled in his eyes when the seizure like tremors hit. Dean was just glad they never lasted long, not that watching Sam's frame go still and stiff in pain was any better.

"You're doing good man, I promise I'll find you something soon."

When Sam wrapped his weak hand around Dean's wrist, his eyes focusing, Sam mouthed something - he'd never mouthed anything in his life. Dean didn't catch it at first, but that was okay because Sam's lips were practically moving on a loop. When Dean finally understood, he suddenly wished he was blind. '_Dean, it hurts. It hurts Dean. Please it hurts. Dad it hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.'_

_Fuck this. _His dad could tear him a new one for breaking the family code when Sam was better.

"Sammy, Sammy look at me, listen to me, I'm gonna get you some help, okay? Everything's gonna be fine little brother, I'm gonna take care of you, everything's gonna be okay, sshh, it's okay."

He held Sam's hand as he dialled the first number on the list.

"_Hey this is Caleb, my guess is if you've got my emergency number you need some help. Sorry__,__ but if you've got my voice mail I'm either wrapped up in another job or dead at the bottom of some ditch. You should try Bobby Singer _–605-555-0717."

Bobby Singer, good guy from what Dean remembered, before he and dad got into it when dad did the whole cutting off ties with the rest of the hunting world mission. Bobby was about the only guy that tried to hang on to the friendship he'd had with them, hell why wouldn't he, he was the only one the both of them took to and started calling uncle. He was worth a try.

He dialled Bobby's number and prayed this one would pick up.

"_Yeah?"_

"Is this Bobby Singer?"

"_Depends on who's callin'."_

"This is Dean." He cleared his throat. "Dean Winchester."

"_Dean Winchester... Dean Winchester."_ Bobby seemed to be speaking to himself, trying to go over where he'd heard the name before_. "Dean Winchester, as in Johnny's kid?"_

"Yeah, yeah that's me."

"_Hey kid, how ya been? What's your dad gotten into this time?" _

"It's not my dad, he uh... I don't know where he is."

Bobby could clearly hear the weight in his voice that told him John hadn't just nipped out, he'd been gone for a while. _"The son of a bitch ditched you? When? How long ago? How's your brother?" _

"It's Sammy I'm calling about, he needs help. We were on a job, a Black Annis, Sammy had these freaky visions he said she was sending him and then he disappeared, she'd taken him, I don't know what she did to him but when I found him he was all cut up."

Bobby knew that was the typical Black Hag M.O. but something told him that wasn't the whole story. _"He alright?"_

"No... I took him to the hospital, he had surgery, and when he came out, all his cuts... everything was just gone. He signed out AMA and then we went back to a motel, he looked fine but I could tell he was still in pain. It's like he's healed on the outside but not on the inside. A couple of days later he started shivering, then he started getting this thing on his chest, it's like a rash but it's blue and all veiny. Now he's covered in it and he's got a fever and I can't find anything on what this thing could be... I just don't know what to do."

"_Your dad not pickin' up?"_

Bobby already knew the answer so Dean didn't bother replying, the pause spoke for itself.

"_Alright, can you travel?"_

"I-I I can... yeah, I guess."

"_How far are you from South Dakota."_

"Five hours give or take."

"_Bring him here."_

"I don't..." A little help over the phone was going against the Winchester oath enough, never mind going to another hunter's house. Dean was about to protest, until he felt the hand in his get tighter and the heard another mew from his brothers lips. "We'll be there in three."

"_Good, I don't know what it is but if I can get a better look at it, I can try to narrow this son of a bitch down and find a cure for your brother." _

"Ah... thanks, thank you."

"_No problem, just get your asses here already__.__ I'll be waiting."_

Dean snapped his cell shut, and seeing that his brother was mid way into unconsciousness again, he figured this was the best time to pack and haul Sam to the car. _Here goes nothin'._

_**SPN**_

On the way to Bobby's, Sam got steadily worse. The bouts of tremors came more often and lasted for longer. Every time the stolen motel blanket fell down from Sam's shoulder, Dean would pick it up and tuck it back under his brother's chin. But now he just left it pooled on Sam's lap because every time he replaced the fabric it was flinched off as though even the slightest touch to Sam's skin hurt him.

Dean didn't stop though, Sam hadn't coughed up any blood, the blue veiny rash hadn't spread past his torso and the pain hadn't caused anymore screams or babbles. It looked pretty bad, but Sam was tough as nails. It was the breathing - or lack thereof- that had Dean stepping a little harder on the gas pedal.

Every inhale of breath was agonizing. At one point Sam's hand flew out and grasped his jean clad thigh tight, his nails digging into his brother's skin.

'_Can't breathe,'_ was the clear warning in his fear struck eyes.

"Take bigger breaths Sammy, it'll help."

Sam eventually caught his breath, though he was still wheezing, he was no longer suffocating.

Dean called their father an hour out from Bobby's to let him know that if he ever felt like showing his asshole face, they'll be in South Dakota.

_**TBC...**_

**You guys have made my 2010 the best year in quite some time! Have a wonderful Christmas and New Year peeps! X **


	8. Thistle and Weeds

_**So how's the new year treating all you guys? I've had a few temporary glitches but if I learned anything thing last year, it's that everything smoothens out if you give it time. Also, sometimes, you just gotta let stuff go because baggage is heavy and doesn't do anything for your back. X **_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Thistle and Weeds**

When they arrived at Bobby's, the old scrap-man did the whole "its good to see you kids. How ya been?" and all that crap, but Dean didn't have time for pleasantries. He mumbled something close to "peachy thanks" before letting Bobby help him get Sam inside.

Sam's cries were pitiful, Dean mumbled apologies all the way from the car through Bobby's front door. It was blissful relief when they made it to the makeshift bed in Bobby's living room under the window. Dean didn't ask how long it had been there but he couldn't remember seeing it the last time he came. Now he was inside with all the dust coated books, all the memories of this place came flooding back. The feeling he got from it was about the only upside to the hellish month he and Sam were having.

"Atta boy Sammy, see, wasn't so bad was it Princess?"

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, he was tempted to give Dean the finger, but his arms ached too much to be lifted.

"You okay here? Or you wanna move over to the couch?"

Sam shook his head, here was fine by him, moving again was not.

"You okay to be here?" Dean asked softly. He wasn't asking about the bed this time.

Sam's eyes cleared a little. _'I'm fine.'_ He'd never had a problem with other people like his brother or father, that was their issue only, he understood why, but he had never blamed humans for what happened to him.

"Good, try and relax okay, Bobby'll get you back in top form in no time, he's the best at this crap remember?"

Sam didn't need reassurance Bobby was a good guy, but it seemed Dean did, so he pressed a hand to his big brothers shoulder and the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly. _'It's okay, I'll be fine. Nothing's gonna happen this time. You're here.'_

"Damn straight." Dean smirked, and resisted the urge to pat Sam's hand- it would only cause him more pain.

As he turned to Bobby and stood from kneeling by the bed, Dean's face turned hard again. "What do you wanna do first?"

"How about I take a look at him and then I can see if anything I've found so far matches up."

"Be careful," Dean warned. "He's hurting."

Bobby nodded, and did his best to examine Sam with the utmost care, only apologizing once to both boys when he pressed a light finger to one of the bigger veins on Sam's stomach that made him jerk back in pain.

"I don't know what it is yet but I'll keep looking, you wanna stay here with your brother?"

Dean looked at him, his eyebrow curled up. _'DUH!'_

"The kitchen is stocked up with basics, you want anything just make yourselves at home."

"Thanks," Dean said sincerely, losing the attitude- for now.

Bobby left for his library and started on a more thorough search, hoping to find something soon before it was too late. He didn't want to mention anything to Dean, but it looked like Sam was having a hell of a time trying to hold on and hold back this virus, toxin, poison whatever it was.

_**SPN**_

A couple of hours later when nightfall came, Bobby heard a clatter from the other room. He left his books to go see what the commotion was.

Grabbing the nearest shotgun he eased his way to the living room only to see an old lamp on the floor shattered and Sam in the middle of the living room floor, Dean holding his brother as his back arched up in pain with every attempted breath. Shit this wasn't good. Seeing no immediate supernatural threat he put aside his weapon and hurried over to the two men.

"It's alright Sammy, sshh, it's okay, I know it hurts but you need to breathe. No ifs, buts, or maybe's kiddo, you gotta breathe."

Dean was just as focussed and caring with Sam as he was when they were kids. If the situation were any different, Bobby would smile in awe.

Once Sam's breathing was under a little more control, Bobby was about to leave them again until Dean called out in a tone he hadn't heard in years- fear. "Can you help me?" he looking up at Bobby with pleading eyes.

"Sure son." Together they managed to get Sam back on the bed and laying in a somewhat flat position. Watching Dean care for Sam, soothing and settling him, broke Bobby's heart because underneath all the big brother bravado he could see Dean was terrified. "I've got some morphine if you think he needs it."

Dean had no idea what it would do to Sam's already fucked up system, but anything was better than this, watching Sam flinch and roll around in agony as tears leaked from his eyes, dripping down his temples and soaking into the pillow beneath his head.

"Yeah, okay," Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and turned his attention to stroking Sam's hair. While it seemed to hurt him, it calmed him even more, so Dean sucked up the 'I will never hurt you little brother' crap and carried on.

Bobby went to his secret stash of heavy meds he refused to use unless a hunter came barging though his door missing a few limbs and vital organs. Sam wasn't quite there, but he was in as much pain as Bobby's rule book allowed.

Coming back with a syringe in one hand, the vial of morphine in the other, he drew just a little into the syringe and told Dean to hold out Sam's arm as he slid the needle into his skin and pressed down on the plunger.

"It's not much, but it might help him sleep." They all held their breath as they waited for the medication to either work, or send Sam into even more dangerous territory.

A few minutes later, after the electric shocks of pain reduced to a steady buzz, Sam looked over to his brother and held a hand out as best he could, glad when Dean took it. _'Thanks.'_

"No problem little brother, now get some sleep, I'll be here."

A blink_. 'I know.'_

"Sweet dreams Princess." Dean smirked once more as Sam glared. "Yeah yeah, bitch."

Sam's eyes finally drifted shut as Bobby noted once again that Dean had answered his brother when he'd never said a word. At first he didn't think much of it, but now...

"Thanks for the... I wouldn't have said yes if he didn't need it."

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't think the same."

Dean nodded, grateful, but still finding it beyond bizarre that he was trusting Bobby so soon with his brother's health, especially as he'd known him all of a couple of hours - as an adult anyway.

"What am I gonna do with you, huh?" Dean sighed looking at his brother's pale face.

Bobby could see Dean needed someone as much as Sam did, so he scurried to his desk, gathered all the books that would hopefully give them some answers and went back to his living room to sit. Close enough for support, but far enough away they didn't feel suffocated.

He nodded in encouragement when Dean made his way over and picked up one of the books too.

_**SPN**_

It was another hour into the research session before Bobby gathered the balls to talk to Dean about his interesting observation.

"So... does Sam have a sore throat or something?"

Dean frowned.

"I just mean if he does, might narrow down our search, all the info we can get and all."

"Why would you think Sam had a sore throat?"

"He just hasn't said much." Correction, he hadn't said anything. "Or is the fever messing with his speech or somethin'?"

"Uh, no, Sammy's just not much of a talker."

"What? Last time I saw that kid he could talk the legs off a damn donkey not to mention the rest of the herd."

Dean's eyes darkened again. "Sam doesn't like talking these days, okay?"

"Okay, I didn't mean anything by it."

Dean bowed his head and mumbled something close to a sorry before going back to research. His attitude problem still bothered him enough for it to distract him from working, so he thought why not just rip the band aid off, Bobby was bound to find out sooner or later.

"Sam's a mute," he blurted out.

"A what? That slang for mime or something? White gloves and creepy makeup?" Maybe young hunters these days had more than one job.

"No, Sam's a mute," he repeated, "He doesn't talk."

"Ever?" Bobby's voice was shocked, with a slight undertone of scepticism.

"No."

"Since when? What happened?"

"He was ten. This black dog attacked him."

"So, is his throat damaged or something?"

Dean shook his head, "it's not physical, Sam can talk if he wants, he just doesn't."

"Why?" Bobby didn't want to pry, but Dean looked like he needed to unload. If they had been missing a father for who knows how long and Dean had had no one but his mute brother, the boy needed a shoulder to lean on, or at least one he could talk to.

"He got scared out of his mind when those asshole hunters took him out into the woods, they were supposed to be watching him, we trusted them with Sammy and instead they ended up with meat on a stick. The dog tried to get to Sammy, they killed it just in time but... he'd screamed so much that night he... I don't know why I'm telling you this." Dean ran a hand through his hair.

"It's okay. So your brother's was tortur-" Bobby daren't finish the word. "He screamed too long and he just don't bother talking no more?"

"Basically, yeah. He makes sounds: bitches, whimpers, moans, if you're really lucky he'll laugh. I can understand him for the most part, but some days it's like... I'm talking to an imaginary friend ya know? Most of the time I don't really understand why Sam is what he is myself, never have, probably never will, but... he's still my brother."

"You're a good kid Dean," Bobby praised, knowing Dean needed it.

Dean ducked his head once again, this time in embarrassment rather than shame.

"He spoke... the other day when I... when I found him, Jesus the things that came outta his mouth were not what the first words I wanted hear from that kid. He was just... in almost fifteen years nothing I've ever tried to do to get that kid to at least say my name... couple of hours getting tortured by some hag and..." he ran another hand through his spikes. This was so messed up.

They talked some more, what he and Sam had been up to since their dad left, Sam going off to Stanford, Bobby was shocked to hear that more than he was to hear Sam didn't talk. But the way Dean spoke about Sam's 'geek brain' he knew he was proud of his little brother, even if it hurt him when he left.

Sam woke up a few times, the drugs blocked out most of his pain and he was able to watch his big brother get to talk to someone he enjoyed the company of for the first time in years. It was nice, he was happy for his brother, Dean deserved so much more than he could give, even on his best day.

The last time he woke up he gave a huff of frustration as he saw Bobby and Dean surrounded by research while he just lay there. Finding a loose thread on the edge of the top blanket he immediately started to try his best to reduce the cover to its prime components.

"You ready to help us out with some of this crap?" Dean asked seeing the picking, he smirked a little, even sick as a dog, Sammy still couldn't keep away from research. He handed Sam a book and told him to get reading. While he was feeling the Winchester definition of 'okay', he could help a little, plus it would distract him.

Having been helped up by Dean as much as possible into a semi-sitting position without too much pain, he propped up the ancient text and tried to concentrate on the erratic print. Ploughing stubbornly through the dusty pages the book dropped to the floor when a loud bang at Bobby's front door startled him more than his weakened hands could handle.

While Bobby reached for his shotgun, Dean clicked the safety off his Colt and peered out of the window to see who in the hell it was. His mouth dropped and his jaw practically hit the floor when he saw the familiar black truck.

"Dad?" he gasped.

_**TBC...**_


	9. Fix Me

**Please read! **

**Okay guys, I have concluded my typical method is not working these days. Usually I like to be one or two chapters ahead of the posts on here so I always have something to fall back on and hand to you guys should I ever lose my mind. Well, mind has gone, it's been about two months now since I've actually wrote a chapter in its entirety on this story and on my Bruised story. I thought I would get it back but it's just not happening so, maybe this new panic I have now of having nothing left in my 'to post' file will kick me into writing mode. Here's to hoping! **

**I do have to let you guys in on a secret though, I haven't been completely lazy and useless. I have been writing, just not on my two WIP's. I've been working on a new story idea I got last year and I think it's going well so far. I haven't had much inspiration for anything besides it so while I do I might as well crack on with that right? I hope I'm right lol. I vowed to myself I wouldn't start posting though until at least one of my incomplete stories is finished. Oh and reading Chimera by Rob Thurman, amazing book! I highly recommend it! Lots of brotherly love and action! **

_**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **_

**Fix Me**

"Dad?"

They heard the door being opened but obviously John didn't wait to be invited in. Shit, he looked pissed.

"John, slow down. What the-"

"Dean," John's voice was low, he spoke his son's name in a warning tone and his expression wasn't any prettier.

"Dad? What the hell are you doing here?" Dean didn't know whether to be pissed himself or run over and give dad the biggest damn hug for still being alive- he smiled with relief either way.

"I could ask you the same damn question." John gave his eldest a look of betrayal and slight disgust.

"Dad wha-" The smile dissipated and he felt five years old again, being grounded for two whole weeks when everyone- including his father- thought he had broken Mrs. Jones' favourite vase.

"Pack your shit up, we're leaving, come on Sammy," Wrapping his hand around Sam's wrist, John pulled the attached arm over his shoulders and lifted him from the bed in one swoop.

"Dad, put him down," Dean was pleading as he heard his brother whimper in pain at the first touch to his hot skin. Much as he wanted to, he didn't have it in him to try and yank his brother from their father's grasp, it would only cause Sam more pain.

"You need a reminder of who the father is around here?"

"Dad please, you're hurting him." Dean put his palm around his brother's shoulder and took it back, sending an apologetic look his way, the second he hissed in distress.

"He'll thank me later."

"John, put the boy down, can't ya see he's in pain? He needs help."

"Yeah, and that's what we're gonna get him, by ourselves, just like we always do."

"I can help, I got books here, we're on a lead, you just gotta give me some time you stubborn ass."

"Dad, please."

"No damn it, the last time I left my son's life in the hands of another hunter they fucking broke him!"

Sam snapped at that comment, his body might feel half way into hell's fire but he wasn't deaf. Pulling himself up with all he had, he pushed away from his father who was too shocked to stop his grip from being released. Luckily Dean was there to catch his brother and lower him back to the bed.

"Oh damn it, not again," Bobby cursed when he could see Sam's breathing had not only gone quick and shallow, but almost altogether stopped, like he was drowning in air, only he wasn't, he was just drowning in pain.

Dean tried talking Sam down but he was too rattled himself to be effective. He turned to Bobby, pleading. Not having to be told, and already having the kit close by, Bobby filled a new syringe with a higher dose of the good stuff and pushed John out of the way to get the boys.

"Try the left this time."

As commanded, Dean worked his way around his brother to hold his left arm out for Bobby to give him the shot. If this were any different, Sam would be freaking out about the needles alone right now, kid always hated them, not that Dean blamed him, Sam had been prodded and poked enough to be put off for life.

"You're okay man, go back to sleep, I'll be here." Gently, Dean nudged Sam to lay flat and started stroking his hair again.

Sam turned his wet eyes to his brother, the look in which scared Dean to his very core, it was a look of total hopelessness.

"We'll find a cure for this thing, I promise you Sammy, just hold on okay?"

Sam didn't have it in him to shake his head no, he just couldn't do that to Dean after everything- so he nodded, and closed his eyes, hoping the next time he opened them Dean would be standing over him with a cocky smile saying 'I told you so.'

"Hold on, Sammy," Dean whispered. Straightening, he turned to look at his father, all respect for him gone. "You don't touch him ever again."

John was taken aback by the look in his son's eyes, he'd only ever seen that narrow eyed glare when Dean was aiming it at supernatural sons of bitches that got too close to his little brother. He had never seen it directed at him before.

"Dean, what the hell?" His heart wanted to apologize, but it seemed his mouth was only listening to his head.

Not prepared to get into a pissing contest with his dad in the middle of Bobby's living room where Sam was trying to rest, Dean barged past both men and headed outside into the yard, unable to help himself from kicking a random rusty old truck when he got there.

"Dean!" His father was following him, but Bobby wasn't, he was watching over Sam, just like he should be right now.

"Dad, Sammy needed help."

"Then why couldn't you help him?"

"What the hell do you think I was trying to do!" Dean was angry, he blamed himself enough, he didn't need his father doing it too. "I tried everything, I had nothing left, coming here was Sammy's last hope. Dad I swear I tried, I searched everywhere, I called you and you didn't pick up."

John sighed, his kids were the strongest he knew, but there were some times when they looked like scared little boys again. "I didn't mean that, I know you'd do everything to help Sammy, but I just..."

"We didn't have any more options dad. Even if this is a bust, Sammy knows I at least tried, I didn't just let him rot in some motel room because I was too damn proud or scared of the what ifs to ask for help."

"If you two have finished your jawin'," a familiar gruff voice from inside the house yelled, cutting short their painful conversation, "I think I've got something."

_**SPN**_

"You sure this is gonna work?" If John sounded somewhat sceptical, his face practically screamed 'are you crazy' at the grizzled mechanic.

"Pretty sure, can't be certain until we try."

"Then no way, unless you're sure this is solid, you are not doing this to my kid."

Sam sighed, typical dad, always trying to hide him away, always trying to fix him when he wasn't technically broken, never willing to take risks even when the pros outweighed the cons, never accepting what's done is done.

He tapped his dad on the leg to get his attention and turned on the puppy eyes that even he would understand.

"He's asking you to trust Bobby," Dean explained when he saw the pleading look on his brother's face. "He wants to try this."

"Sammy, we've got no idea if this will work or make you even worse."

Sam scoffed_. _Hecouldn't breathe without it hurting._ 'It can't get much worse.'_ John didn't need a translator for that one.

"Sammy? You alright?" Dean asked when his brothers pale face just got a shade greyer.

Sam's only answer was shivering. The veins pulsed, the angry throb impossible to ignore as its presence overwhelmed and twisted his senses, but there was something else, he could feel it, something else deep inside, something was wrong, even more wrong than before...

"What's going on?" John asked, also seeing the trembles.

"He gets these shivers sometimes, it hurts." Dean was on his right, John on the left, it struck both of them when Sam whimpered in pain.

Dean wasn't sure what happened but not long after the whimper, Sam was coughing his lungs up, sounding like he was choking, like something was stuck, or trying to get out. Sam gagged, and Bobby instantly grabbed the boy a trashcan. Sam's body continued to jerk, each retch more painful than the last until he was on all fours, his head hung over the can with Dean supporting him as best he could.

Ears ringing as his muscles spasmed, Sam's world shrank to the container in front of him, the pain in his gut and the agony of whatever was growing in him. There was a constant noise that he vaguely knew was his brother and father talking but the words made no sense. He cried out mid heave when John went to rub soothing circles on his back - that wouldn't help this time, not like it did when he was a little kid. One more gag and finally the blockage was released.

"Holy shit." Dean or his dad, Sam didn't know and didn't care, but he wished he could tell them he agreed with them.

Sweating and muscles failing, Sam couldn't hold himself up anymore and although it hurt, he was glad for his family behind him that held him up enough so he wouldn't choke on the blue sticky repulsive bile coming from who knows where and not looking like it was going to stop.

Steadying his brother as he coughed and choked as the ropy mass forced itself out, Dean winced as the blue soon enough was mixed with vivid streaks of something else, something that was Sam's and not a creation of the supernatural sickness running through him... it was blood. Gasping between heaves, he could feel Sam painfully sucking in breaths when he could which wasn't often enough as his lips were turning as blue as the fluid in the bucket. He'd never felt more helpless.

Sam was reaching his limit, his refusal to give in scraped raw. He would scream if he could.

_Wanna die. Want to die. Please let me die. Please end me. Please. Kill me Dean. Kill me._

"Dad he's losing it," Sam recognized the voice but not the tone, Dean sounded worried... no, he sounded petrified, Dean was never petrified, he barely got scared.

"I know, you gotta get him to calm down. Dean, calm your brother down," came the firm order from his father.

Taking Dean's place as he shifted out from behind Sam, John took over holding all of his weight as Dean crawled around to his front. Carefully, placing his hands on either side of his brother's face, Dean forced their eyes to meet.

"Sammy, Sammy look at me, I'm not gonna leave you. I'm gonna stay right here. Huh little brother? In this together, right? I'm not gonna let you go, I'm never gonna let you go."

He was dying, he didn't know how he knew but he could feel it, feel the agonizing hell fire in his belly and he knew he was dying. Jesus, he wasn't dying before he had chance to tell Dean it wasn't his fault, who he was now, all his problems, it wasn't his big brothers fault.

"De... Dea..." The pain of trying to talk, even the weak rasp he'd managed to create, was worth it if he could just...

"Sshh, I'm right here." Dean had been hoping for so long to finally hear Sam's voice again but not like this, never like this. "Just stay with me, please Sammy promise me... hold on little brother."

Dean could see the look of despair in Sam's eyes, and prayed he was getting through to him.

"It's alright Sammy, it's alright tiger, you're okay."

As the cramping gradually eased and the vomiting finally stopped, Sam latched onto his brothers t-shirt, leaned his head to his chest and sobbed. Strong arms wrapped around him and he allowed himself to sink into the comfort and the warmth coming from his brother and father.

"Bobby?" John's voice was rough with emotion. "Let's get this over with."

Dean was more shocked than anyone to hear his father utter those words, it only took Sammy retching up everything in him to get him to see how desperate they were.

Bobby didn't need any orders from John Winchester as he'd already hastily assembled and put in place the things needed for the ritual when he saw the horrific sickness that came over Sam.

"We need blood," he announced knowing neither Winchester would like that.

"Whose?" Dean raised his head to meet Bobby in the eye.

"Either you or your daddy's. Couple of drops should do."

Both father and son drew the offered blade across their palms and squeezed their fists tight, blood droplets hitting the mangy looking bowl Bobby had shoved under their hands.

It was certainly more than a few drops when Bobby finally took the bowl away, but none of them said anything as they both compressed their cuts with whatever they had in their pockets.

"What's next?" Frustrated, Dean looked between the other two hunters not missing the odd look that passed between them.

"I mix this disgusting concoction and Sam drinks it."

Bobby got to work leaving the other three to catch up. God knows it looked like they needed to, and when this was all over, he was going to tear John a new one for leaving his boys alone, they clearly weren't doing too good with that arrangement.

These kids needed a break already.

_**TBC...**_


	10. I'll see you

_I __apologize p__profusely for the absence. College it taking up most of my time now its getting really close to exams so our teacher is really making us knuckle down in lessons and a lot out and with being poorly I've missed tons, even on lessons I went to. I really hate to do this but... __**this story is officially on HIATUS! **__Until I can find the time to do this story right. Unless anyone else wants to take over for a few chapters. Hope you can all understand. Sorry again._

_**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **_

**I'll see you**

"You ready Sammy?" Dean asked, more apprehensive than anyone in the room once Bobby told them that after Sam drank this disgusting puke yellow potion that he'd cooked up... it would get ugly as hell before it got better.

Sam was still all for it though as he seriously doubted it could get any worse. It was the others he was waiting on, then he'd gladly down the whole thing in one gulp. He nodded, taking the glass from his brother whose hand was still hovering close should he drop it from his shaking fingers.

He looked up at his father, his arms were crossed, his face taut, trying to appear stoic but coming off as anything but. Dean's fear was pretty much written all over him, right on the surface; whether he knew it or not, Sam wasn't sure. Bobby... Bobby just looked so damn sorry for what was about to happen. All of them knew what might happen... well, all but his big brother. He'd forced both older men to keep it as a secret because he just couldn't tell Dean, he just didn't need anything else put on him right now.

His eyes darted back to Dean, their gaze never shifting from each other as he brought the cup to his lips, tipped his head back and chugged.

It was disgusting, he gagged at every swallow and damn there was a lot of it, much more than he remembered. His brother was rubbing his neck, helping the liquid go down smoother as Sam retched. But finally... after several long minutes, Sam had finished the glass, handed it back to his brother who handed it to Bobby who left for the kitchen.

He frowned. Why was nothing happening? Why did he still hurt? Why could he still feel the veins throb?

"Did it work?" Dean asked his father as he knew Sam's answer already.

"I don't know." Unfolding his arms, he stepped back next to his boys and lifted Sam's t-shirt to see if anything was happening to the blue rash. "Sammy?" he asked, looking carefully at his son's face, hoping to read it as well as Dean could.

Sam just shook his head, tears stinging his eyes as he realized his only hope for relief had just failed. He thought that just in time to vomit again, this time all over his father, before what felt like lightning raced down his nerves making his back arch as his body spasmed into agonizing convulsions - he screamed. It burned, holy hell someone was setting his stomach on fire. Oh god... oh god... his eyes... his eyes... oh god, this wasn't meant to happened, Bobby said this wouldn't happen... his _dad_ said he couldn't... he said... oh god... oh god...

Every nerve, every strand in his body was being torn apart and set on fire, one by one.

He couldn't scream anymore, he couldn't, he wasn't allowed, screaming was bad, it was bad, naughty. And naughty boys get punished, she said... she said. Oh god... he couldn't scream, but she never said anything about crying, he could cry, that wasn't breaking the rules, he could cry.

And he did. He cried as the blue supernova exploded in his head driving out all thought but pain, before it all went black, before the darkness enfolded what used to be his brother's face drenched in just that single tear that told Sam he was hurting too.

_**SPN**_

Dean watched as his brother cried, it was worse than the screams, screams at least held anger, they might hold a hell of a lot of pain but they had some power behind them. Tears and pitiful whimpers were just nothing but a plea for release, in any way possible.

He couldn't stop himself from stepping back from the scene, how could he let this happen to his brother? How could he just be allowed to sit here and watch this? Why couldn't it be him? Why wasn't it him that was left alone with those hunters? Why couldn't he have had the balls to tell his father no, no he was staying with Sammy, he was staying with his little brother because that was his job. Then Sam wouldn't be a mute, and he would have been a better big brother and Sam wouldn't have been taken by that bitch and it wouldn't have ever come to this. If he did his job like he was meant to none of this would be happening right now!

Instead he'd watched in horror as the poison, because he couldn't think of it as anything else, had torn its way through his brother's body. His father was still behind him from when he'd grabbed his arms and held him back as Sam had started to seize, looking like a puppet with a psychotic holding the strings. And then he'd starting screaming and Dean didn't think that things could get any worse. Bobby had helped keep him from his brother, not releasing him until the shudders stopped and the rusty howling faded, and he wasn't sure he'd be forgiving either of them any time soon.

He forced his body to move back to Sam's side and there he picked up his sobbing brother and rocked him.

"It's alright Sammy, it's alright, I gotcha little brother, I'm gonna make it better, make you good as new." Rocking, back and forth, back and forth, back... and forth. "You'll be fine." He concentrated on the soothing motion, tightening his grip as his brother began to stir slightly. Back, and forth, back and forth, back and- "Sam?" Was that?... No, no he was seeing things... no that... no. This was supposed to fix Sam... no, it wasn't, it just couldn't... "D-ad?" his voice shook.

"Dean," his father spoke calmly - too damn calmly. Couldn't he _see_?

"Dad his eyes... his freakin' eyes are blue! Why the fuck are his eyes blue? This was meant to fix him!"

Blue, and lost. That's all Sam's eyes were now. No white, no black pupils, no green iris, just a milky wash of blood flecked powdery sickening blue staring off into nothing at all.

Dean moved a hand in front of his brother's face, and got no reaction besides quiet sniffles.

"Dad... he can't... he can't see! Dad he can't see! Do something!" he pleaded, voice filled with fear and growing anger.

"I know," came the quiet answer Dean did not want to hear.

"You knew... you knew this would happen! You knew it wouldn't work!" Dean hissed, arms tightening once more on his now groggily awake little brother.

"No Dean, it worked, it worked alright!"It was John's turn to be angry. Hell yes he knew it would work, but fuck he didn't want it to work like this.

Dean looked at Sam, the sweat soaked t-shirt revealing the veins were gone, and so were the pain lines that had been etched in every inch of his body... but something else had gone too and Dean just wasn't okay with that like John and Bobby seemed to be.

"Sammy?" he choked.

Sam just smiled peacefully. It made Dean sick because... Sam was okay with it too, which could only mean that the moron knew what could happen and hadn't told him. What the hell! He wanted to scream. He was the protector, not Sam! Much as he valued the rather large bundle in his arms, as much if not more than when he'd carried him out of the fire, part of him was practically shaking with fury that Sam had kept him in the dark.

How in the hell was Dean supposed to read his brother like this? He couldn't express shit with those eyes! How was he supposed to know when Sam was upset? Or when Sam was happy or when he needed his attention when the kid couldn't muster any emotion other than confusion!

Blissfully unaware of his brother's emotional storm, Sam was indeed doing okay. He held onto the nearest thing his clumsy hands could find, Dean's shirt and shoulders, and heaved himself up, his brother following, never letting him go. Sam was exhausted, the shock of his lost sight hadn't hit him yet, but damn it felt good to move without agony or fear at last.

"Sam..."

He just smiled again to where he assumed his brother's face was. He could feel Dean's heavy breaths next to him, big brother wasn't okay, but for now... Sam was. Maybe in time, Dean would be too.

His hopes were shattered when the strong arms let go to gently settle him back onto the cushions and Dean left the house with what felt like a tornado under his ass.

_**SPN**_

"How do we get it back? Tell me! How do we fix this?"

Dean had rushed to his car, he'd intended to drive to the nearest cemetery and kill something in the most painful way possible. He hadn't gotten very far when his father stopped him by slamming him into the ground with a tackle that left him with gravel down his right cheek.

"Dean..."

"No! How do we fix him?" he demanded, pacing Bobby's yard now his dad had let him go.

"Bobby said there was no other way..."

"There's a way! There has to be!"

John just sighed, he knew not telling his eldest was a bad idea.

"Why didn't you tell me? Any of you?"

"Sammy said-"

"I don't give a damn what Sam said, you should have told me, you're meant to be his father! Me and Sammy would have been fine if you hadn't have come here today! I would have found something else for him! Something better than you did. You're a useless sack of shit you know that?" With those venomous words Dean left on foot this time, and John didn't stop him.

_**TBC...**_


	11. AN! Not Dead!

**I'm not dead!**

But my SPN writing brain might be... I'm so sorry guys, I just don't know what to say, I try to write and... _nothing_, I'm at a point where I want to cry because I feel so guilty! I don't want to even see the date on the last time I updated something properly on here. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! And I miss you guys so much!

I'm trying, I really am... :(

Sorry. I hope you don't all hate me. Even if you do, I'll still love you! And I'm sorry this isn't a chapter and I've probably pissed all guys off all the more but I just thought you deserved something from the loser yours truly, it's been so long, too long.

Lots of love and so many more sorries, Becka xoxo


	12. For What it's Worth

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**For What it's Worth**

He could hear everything – every tick of Bobby's ancient wall clock, the ping of light rain on the roof and wrecked cars outside, the mice in the walls. Hell, if he tried really hard he could probably hear Bobby and his dad breathing as they slept upstairs, but the most important sound was the scrape and uneven thud of heavy boots as they moved towards the outside stairs of the house. Sam's fingers barely fumbled as he switched off the low drone of the tv and stood, tracing the rough fabric of the couch to its end and then carefully walking the five steps and then turn, three steps, to get him to the door. His movements though cautious, were confident. If there was one thing he knew it was how to adapt to a disability and Bobby had patiently helped him learn the house's layout long after he'd heard his dad mumble something about cleaning weapons and go up to his room.

He winced as he heard a crash of knocked over metal that told him that whoever was approaching was either very clumsy or didn't care if they were heard, or both. Any apprehension he had dissolved when a rather inventive string of curse words reached his ears, followed by stumbling steps up the stairs and the squeal of an uncared for door hinge.

"Sammy!"

_Hey, Dean._

Dean was back, drunk off his ass and it was amazing how he was even keeping himself upright, but he was home, whatever that meant right now.

Next thing he knew he was shocked to find himself nearly knocked off his feet and wrapped in a hug by his big brother who reeked of booze and cheap perfume, damp leather jacket creaking as his arms tightened around him. Just as abruptly the grip loosened and a hand came up to gently hold his jaw. He could picture Dean's face crumpling at the blank stare he knew he had in his eyes and just as he expected he got a quick, fierce shove, the arms were gone and a muffled thump told him Dean was probably against the first tower of books – four steps left.

"You suck!" The direction of the deep slurred voice told him he was right and Sam moved back, arms stretching to close the front door and stop the gust of cold, clammy air wafting in as his brother's voice continued. "'S all your fault... No... no 's not... it's mine... 'M sorry Sam..." A strangled sob... was his brother... crying? "Shoulda stopped it... shoulda known... shoulda never left you alone in the car... shoulda b'n me... fucked up..."

There was the distinct catch and glide of fabric as a body slid down to slump on the floor.

_Damn it Dean!_Sam couldn't do much right now, unable to speak, unable to see, but he could take care of his brother when he needed it. That sixth sense thing didn't stop because he suddenly lost another of his regulars, he still knew how to get Dean out of his damn jacket, make him take off his boots and lay him in bed. Steps as precise as if choreographed, he moved to his brother's side, heaved his arm over his shoulder, grabbed his belt loops to keep him up and, ironically, guided him towards the stairs, all to an intermittent chorus of bleary ''m sorry' and ''s my fault' and the occasional beery belch. Sure he stubbed his toes more times than he could count, but soon Dean was snoring away under his covers, so that meant he couldn't have done too bad of a job.

His dad and Bobby had roamed the million books downstairs trying to find something else to fix at least one of his botched pieces, but as weird as it may be, he still didn't mind the not seeing. He was self aware enough to admit that at first he'd been terrified; there were things in the dark just waiting for someone like him, who didn't stand a hope in hell of fighting back. But here, with Dean, with Bobby, he realised he was safe. He wouldn't want to spend the rest of his life in the scrap yard but he knew there was no way in hell he could hunt like this and Dean would never leave him. Maybe, screwed up as it was, it was their chance to get out and find another way to live.

Dean was going to give him hell for it tomorrow, and regular Dean was bad enough, but hung-over Dean...? Holy hell was he a cranky son of a bitch, but... whatever. Maybe the bliss of not feeling excruciating pain with every waking and sleeping moment still hadn't worn off, but like he said... What. Ever.

**_SPN_**

The sweet sounds of singing birds woke Sam up the next morning in a way the sun never would again, but it was the only pleasant noise he was destined to listen to that day. Breakfast had been fun. He wouldn't have been surprised if the freezing cold Dean sent his dad and Bobby's way would have created a frost warning for the whole county. And then there was himself...

Dean was a cranky, _moaning and bitching yelling to the high heavens_ ass, pacing up and down demanding aspirin and an explanation to yesterday's fiasco. Then continued the rant with "Oh right, I forgot, you can't answer can you?"

_Dean..._ Sam sighed internally.

"You can't tell me what the fuck you were thinking because you can't speak, and you have to see to be able to write or sign! What the fuck, Sam?"

_Dean, I'm sorry. _

"This plan of yours was fucking genius, round of applause! For the smartest kid I know, you are doing a remarkably good impression of a dumb ass son of a bitch these days! Really! It's Oscar worthy!"

_I was trying to protect you, you smart-ass jerk... and it was Bobby's plan, Dad and I just agreed to it._

"Oh do not give me that look you son of a bitch! I think I have the damn right to be any jerk I like right now, don't you?"

Sam sighed, God he hated it when Dean was right. But he didn't regret his decision not to tell him though. Not one bit... not at all.

**_SPN_**

"A what?"

"A blood ritual." Bobby's voice was matter of fact and challenging.

"More freakin' blood? Right 'cause that worked so damn well last time!"

Sam had had enough, the yelling, the bitching, enough. If Dean didn't stop, his one remaining sense was going to die out just as quick as his others. The rants had been so gruff voiced, so tight in his ear drums, Sam was sure he was going deaf already and the worst of it was they were all acting like he wasn't there.

"Dean would you shut the hell up and just listen," John ordered.

"No, you damn well listen! I'm sick of this shit, I'm sick of being piggy in the middle for this family and I'm sick of being the one that's always left in the crossfire! How can I trust anything that you tell me, huh? I'm sick and tired of not being 'in the loop' and Sam pays for it. There could have been another way..."

Sam snaps, he's smart and it wouldn't be the first time he's had to track invisible prey, he's done it enough to know just where Dean is right now. He tightens his fist as much as it will go, and swings out, satisfied as soon as he feels Dean's hard jaw on his knuckles, hell he's ecstatic when he hears the grunt that follows.

"The fuck?"

Sam just stares at him, yes, he knows where Dean is, and he knows what both their faces look like right now, he wasn't invisible, he had lived, he was a part of this family no matter how much they didn't think so sometimes. He was real!

"Alright. Sam go sit on the couch, Dean, kitchen, now."

Sam doesn't go to the living room as commanded by his father, no, he feels around, pushing off the hands he knows are Dean's, his fingertips trace the walls until he finds Bobby's front door, the handle, he twists, and then he's out. Fresh cool air blows on his face and it's raining again, he can hear it, and he can feel it when he steps off the porch, he takes just a few seconds, just a few to stick his tongue out and catch a few drops, just like Dean taught him as a kid. It takes a moment after savouring the taste of freedom before icy panic sets in and he shuffles backwards until his heels bump up against the stairs, his lifeline from the black void which surrounds him.

"Sam!"

"Sammy..."

Even if it was because Dean wanted to protect him, anger at his brother for being a pig-headed jerk for not trusting his judgement in making his own decisions coils in his gut and spurs him forward. At first he moves delicately, almost like a dancer, toeing his way forward, hands sweeping the air until his arm makes painful contact with the crumpled side of what feels like a truck. Then he's gone, before the ones inside can follow, moving faster than he's sure they think he can, hell, even than he thinks he can, and only manages to get a few bruises on the way through Bobby's car yard. It's not long before he finds a quiet spot that he _knows_ is far enough away from the house that it will take them at least five minutes to find him, five minutes of freedom, peace... silence.

The metal cave stinks of rust and if he had to guess he'd say a fox had lived there for a while, but it would do. He sits down on the wet, muddied ground, brings his knees to his chest and cries... yes, Sam Winchester, the mute and now blind pathetic useless good for nothing hunter, son, brother, boyfriend, is crying.

**_SPN_**

"Sam! Sam!" Dean calls, if the kid even has a scratch on him, he was going to fucking kill him! What was this? Dumb ass week? "Sammy!"

His dad and Bobby went in the opposite direction, he chose to go west; Sam always had a knack for hiding out west. When he was scared after a nightmare, he always went in that direction, whether that was the bathroom, the small corner behind the front motel door or under his big brother's bed, Sammy liked west. It wasn't a big surprise that the kid had wound up at a school the farthest west he could get without crossing the ocean.

"SAMMY!" he screams this time, his patience run out. Oh screw it, he was freakin' worried shitless right now. His mute, and newly blind baby brother, not to mention extremely pissed off and probably worn out to hell baby brother, was lost again... nowhere to be found. It was freezing, starting to pour down, almost pitch black thanks to the thick stuffy clouds up above and the kid hadn't even taken his jacket. Shit, this was too many times he'd lost Sam, too many, and too many times Sam had to pay the price.

"Come on man I know you're pissed at me but please come on out... Man, I'm sorry for being a prick alright, I'm sorry! When we get you fixed up and we're back on the road, I'll buy you all the damn chicken salads your geekboy heart desires and I'll only make fun of you once a week for it."

He shone his flashlight all around. Nothing.

"Okay, once a month?"

A pause, a painful wait, and still... silence.

"Sammy? Please don't do this to me again, I'm begging you..."

Footsteps... behind... heavy feet compacting the soaked mud beneath their soles. Dean freezes, rain dripping in his eyes, unable to turn around because if he did, his momentary spark of hope might be utterly lost... he hopes to God it's his brother. It had to be, it was Sammy. He'd know those steps anywhere. It was him, it was him...

But the hand that lands on his shoulder, it's too heavy, too rough, too... not Sam.

He swings from under the hand, twisting around and pulling his shotgun up in one swift move.

"Whoa!"

Dean growls, in what can only be described as bull fashion. "Don't do that, dad!" he yells, dropping the gun back by his side. Awaiting the dressing down about to come, _'you shouldn't let anything sneak up on you like that' 'you shouldn't let anything, not even me, get that close' 'you need some more training son_.'

"Dean," is all his father says though, stern, dark features set in a way that makes Dean's heart drop to his feet for the hundredth time since all this shit began. "You better come see this."

"What? What is it?"

John doesn't say anything, just sprints and Dean follows, calling Sam's name unconsciously, screaming himself hoarse by the time they come to a skidding halt next to Bobby.

"What? What?" Dean stares down at what John and Bobby fixed on.

"Are those...?"

"Yeah."

"Those are Blackdog tracks." _Claw marks, footprints, black sticky saliva trails._ Dean's dropped heart stops cold. "SAMMY!"

**_TBC..._**


	13. Panic Switch

_Re-posted cos I'm a colossal moron and SamV is amazing._

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**For What it's Worth**

"Son of a bitch this can't be happening, this cannot be happening!" Dean swung up his gun and rammed the back end into whatever was closest, which happened to be Bobby's metal corrugated wall. He then moved to go search out the sick mutt that he knew had his brother, the sick mutt with a death penalty over its head.

"Dean, hold it for crying out loud! We need salt, and more ammo, holy water... We can't just run out there half-assed! We're no good to Sam if we get killed trying to save him because we're not prepared."

"What the hell are you still standing there for then? Go get the fucking ammo!" Dean put both hands roughly onto his father's chest and gave a hard shove backwards.

Bobby understood Dean's anger towards his father, and him, but could tell by the tightening of John's jaw and set of his shoulders that he was swiftly heading towards an explosion for what he would see as insubordination and now was not the time or place. He moved to stand between the two glaring men, only to be surprised when John seemed to gather himself and pulled back.

"Me and Bobby'll go, stay here, keep watch, hear anything, shoot."

"I know, I've done this for long enough, damnit."

"Stay Dean, I mean it."

"Just go already!"

"_Dean_..." John warned in a tone that his son could never disobey.

"I know, dad, just go."

He eyed his son suspiciously one more time, then took off after Bobby to the house, hoping to God his eldest wasn't so ruled by his emotions right now that he would stay and wait for them.

"How much do you have?"

"Enough," Bobby answered, picking up two old duffle bags and collecting every rocksalt round he had, all his cartons of ordinary salt, every bottle of holy water, and hell, regular water they could bless later on when they had to. Black dogs weren't particularly smart but they could be plenty cunning and hard to kill so he'd rather have too much than too little, he just hoped it didn't have friends.

The weight of the bags strained at their seams but the two men barely noticed as they heaved them over their shoulders, grabbed their shotguns and moved out. Silently Bobby cursed and swore that he was going to slip a tracker into those boy's boots for all the times they disappeared on him and he had no idea where to look. But the scrapyard was his home, he knew every rusted bolt and dented fender in it, there was no way he'd let some mangy demon dog find something there before him.

Pacing each other, they worked their way towards where they'd left Dean and, surprise, surprise, he was no longer there. Eyes missing nothing, they followed what remained of his tracks until they lost it where he'd apparently clambered over a bunch of rusted hulks. Bobby sighed at the frustration they both felt. Trackers... yep, definitely needed trackers, or really long leashes, anything to keep a hold of those idjits.

The rain kept falling, the hollow echo of it on all the metal around them interfering with their straining ears, but not enough to mask the oh so human sounds that erupted from the far side of the yard.

"Nononono!" John roared when he heard Dean's livid and excruciating screams. They took off, running like the fucking wind, as cliché as that was, but all the while knowing that when they got there all they would find would be more splatters of blood. "Holy shit..."

Too much blood, Dean was hurt... _bad_. And just like Sam, he was just gone.

**_SPN_**

"God come on come on come on," Dean chanted, rocking himself as he swayed on his feet, urging his father and surrogate uncle to hurry the fuck up, and working to push the blind panic down that was trying to escape. He couldn't give in, he had to wait, when he found Sam, then he could have a mental breakdown, but right now he needed his sanity to find his brother, safe... well... _alive_.

A faint scrape of metal on metal drew his attention and he couldn't wait any longer, he melted amongst the muddy rows, between the rows of skeletal cars and went off to search, his father be damned. Part of his mind screamed at him for disobeying orders while the rest just told it to shut the fuck up because he had a blind brother to find.

The steady rain had blurred the ground, softening the edges of old indents to make them look new when he finally spotted the fresh sasquatch sized print, but his relieved breath freezes in his throat at the other print right close by, and it's frickin' huge. His thousand mile a minute mind is put on hold when he hears a low growl. Not human, not of this world, the sound alone was enough to make you want to vomit, never mind the smell of the thing behind it.

Shit this wasn't good.

Slowly, squeezing his eyes shut just for a second, he brought up his gun and in one barely detectable move spun round on his heels and aimed to shoot. But the thing was on him, the gun flying and his body crashing to the ground backwards before he could take another breath. Blink and you missed it, not to mention you were dead.

All wind was knocked from him, the heavy weight on his body barely registering after the ripping started, the tearing of his thick coat, his shirt, his t-shirt, all the way to his skin, shredding down to muscle.

Ferocious long teeth dug into his chest, pulling downwards like nails on a chalkboard; the sounds that came from his lips are like the screeches from that very same board. The pain inside his head from his own ear piercing screams is enough to distract him from the agony and the blood pooling and dripping down the sides of his body to the ground. Just for a second at least.

He scrambled with arms that could hardly move to find his damn gun, to find anything. But all he gets is wet earth embedded under his nails, not to mention stomach turning saliva spattered on his face as the creature shook him around, turning him on almost all sides so it could make another set of bone deep slashes.

The coppery taste in his mouth told him he needed to cough, clear his throat from the blood, but the pressure of the animal on him wouldn't allow it. So he laid there, the pressure on his chest stopping his very breath, choking on his own bodily fluids, not sure which one would kill him first.

Black dots clouded his vision as his body started to shut down, pain flooding away and peaceful bliss taking over, only one though running through his mind as it did so, _Sammy_, _I'm sorry._

**_SPN_**

_Slightly earlier_

Sam wiped the tears off his face and huffed, disgusted with himself, taking off like a little kid when things got too much. Yeah, he was weak and pathetic, but Dean, despite being a total dick, had taught him to be a man and running away and hiding... not so much a man. Besides, the funky smell in his make-do bolthole was starting to get to him.

He feels distant calls of his family, they are so faint under the pounds of thunder they are almost unheard. They call his name, Sam, Sammy, SAM, all of them. It's time to be a man.

Taking a deep breath he moved forward, took one step out, and nearly fell backwards at the realization of what he had done. Panic gripped him at the inky blackness without end wrapped around him; no million watt flashlight to point the way, hell, even if heaven itself laid out twinkly fairy lights for him to follow he wouldn't be able to see it. He'd moved so far and fast to get away he hadn't thought about where he was, but now he knew... he was lost.

He concentrated on the almost soothing drum of rain on his head, plastering down his hair to drip down to his rapidly sodden shirt, pushing down the fear, the dread, the need to scream for Dean so strong it hurt and prepared himself to make his own way back. As the calm returned, he didn't notice that he'd stopped listening, didn't notice the stealthy footsteps, the heaving shuttered breaths until too late. He only had a horrified moment of recognition of the creature's foul odour before an indescribable force slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and ramming him headfirst into the side of the old rusty van he had just been hiding in.

It was fortunate that absolute darkness fell before the massive jaws clamped on his shoulder, shook him like a rag doll and tossed him carelessly into the air to fall bonelessly on the ground. Maybe one day he would also be glad he was unconscious when slobber was dripped all over him as the thing dragged him by the leg to stuff him into his lair for later before snuffling hot, rancid breath in his face and silently padding away.

**_SPN_**

The thud of something slamming into him followed by something warm and wet dripping on his face, in his eyes, woke him up, the pounding in his head in sync with the agony in his shoulder and leg and for a second his confused mind wondered what the hell happened before it all came crashing back. _Nonononono; _images of a massive slavering creature with rows of needle-like teeth and twisted bundles of powerful misshapen muscles cornering his much younger self, mix with sensations of recent memory, of pain and terror...

_He was huddled in a cave, a big big scary cave, he didn't like caves, he didn't like dark places, monsters get you in dark places, they eat your eyeballs and use your intestines as scarves when it gets cold in the winter. That's what Dean says. He cries because he's scared, Dean isn't here and he's scared, he isn't here to tell him it will all be okay, they'll be safe, dad will come to save them. Dean is all the way on the other side of the country working with dad. He has dad's friends to keep him safe, but he doesn't want them, he wants his big brother and daddy._

_"You're gonna make a nice meal for my doggy here little boy, you smell different... amazing... you'll taste even better."_

_A woman, a tall tall woman comes into view, she has dark long hair and she's smiling, it's almost sweet and sincere and he'd think she was pretty if he didn't look at her eyes, her deep black eyes, filled with evil. Sam knows she's going to take his eyeballs and eat them just like Dean said, either that or she was going to feed them to her pet. She pats it on the head like you would any lovable dog, only this one is huge and scary and Sammy just wants to go home._

_"Leave me alone! Or my daddy and Dean are gonna kick your ass!" he yells at her. Monsters knew his daddy, they were scared of him, Dean told him that too. He'd been huddled in the dark then as well, crying from a nightmare, but Dean had squished beside him and his brother had whispered that because they were scared of him, they wouldn't dare hurt him or they'd be in serious trouble, or 'deep shit', which had made him giggle until dad told Dean off for cursing. But Dean knew; he knew everything._

_"Your daddy and Dean can't save you now, boy, or those pussies out there that call themselves hunters, pity really... some of them are hot."_

_Ew, Sam thinks. But it doesn't last long because he's so scared the ew goes away really fast. He squirms tighter against the wall, could feel the rocks grinding into his skin as she gets closer; the dog's breath smells worse than the ugly thing looks. He jerks his head back so fast against the wall he sees stars as she reaches out for him._

_"So, we're going to play a game." she says, rubbing her thumb gently on the side of his cheek like daddy does sometimes when he's sick, really sick. "You see those people over there?" She grabs his chin now, forcing his eyes in the direction of the far side of the cave. He is so, so glad the cave was kinda dim from just a small fire but it is still bright enough, to see, to see... He chokes and a whine starts that he doesn't know where it came from. There were really scared people stuck on the wall, three men not as old as dad and one girl who looked like the girl Dean was kissing last week, she was a lot older than Dean, like almost 18, but there are two others... two who are all covered in red, with only a ragged gaping ruin where their throats should be and other bits were missing... He gags to stop himself from throwing up what was left of his dinner. He tries to move and finds he's stuck too._

_"I'll explain it to you as you're new, but it's a very simple game really as my other contestants can tell you. My poor doggy is hungry, he hasn't eaten in a long, long time, not a full meal at any rate, so I'm going to have some fun and, of course, what good is a game if there isn't a prize, so here's the deal... the one who manages to stays quietest wins and gets to go free, no strings attached, all in one piece, more or less... while the others" He sees her moving closer to the hanging adults, squirming but silent as she trails her hand along them like a stick on a fence to pause in a gaping wound, delicately swirling her fingertips until they drip bloody and holds them out to her pet to lick clean. "Let's just say the others will not be wasted."_

_"Simple isn't it. Any questions or concerns?" She saunters back over to him and leans close so her long hair tickles his face._

_"No! My dad's gonna kill you..." Sam starts, because that's just mean, he was a kid but he wasn't stupid, but his words are cut off as pain like he's never felt before in his short life twists and digs through his body. He can hear high pitched screaming and wishes it would stop because it's hurting his ears until he realizes it's coming from him. It stops as suddenly as it started and he wants to curl up and cry, wants Dean... wants Dean..._

_"Tsk, tsk, boy! Such bad manners, I specifically stated that you are not to speak, not to scream, not to make any sound at all, but because you're new and so darned cute..."_

_ Long fingers reach out to ruffle his hair and he bites his tongue to stop the moan that wants desperately to get out._

_"...I'm going to let one of the other contestants show you how the game is played." _

_As she wanders away he notices the small table with... _things_ scattered across the top and she picks up what looks like a curved hook and moves to the nearest man. He starts to twist and thrash as much as he can as she gets closer, neat, short blonde hair already crusty with blood scraping back as far as it can go. The angle is wrong so he can't see what she's doing but the snick and sloppy pop is horrifying enough as a thin rusty wail seeps out of the tortured man to lightly echo in the enclosed space._

_"Oh dear," the demon moves back just enough that he could see... he could see... Strong spasms from his stomach force the last of his dinner out to splat on the floor. He bites his lip and lets the fat, wet drops that had been hovering in his eyes to fall. "Now, see, he didn't play the game well and has been voted off of, well, life." She laughs. "Lunch time, baby."_

_At that word the black dog launches itself at the still writhing form and he closes his eyes again and wishes that part of the rules was that you couldn't hear anything either. He just wanted to go home._

_He loses track of time, his throat hurting from swallowing back the urge to yell in agony when it was his turn but soon it's just him and the terrified girl left, the other man having erupted in an ear-splitting screech that was abruptly ended. His face is sticky with sweat, some blood and the black drool from the dog that seems to like to taste its dinner before it's ready._

_"Right, we're down to the final contestants and we're going to have a lightning round because... well, because delightful though you've both been, quite frankly I'm starting to get bored and my sweetie... well, I don't want him to get too fat now do I." She pats the dog and not too gently kicks him away from where he is feeding, and the beast quickly scuttles away to hunch obediently at her feet._

_The girl is nearly insane with terror, he can see. Big blue eyes have gone so wide they seem impossibly huge for her face and while he'd seen her as young before, now she seems old, so old, lips pursed and wrinkled, skin fragile and pale. Even her fiery red hair seems dimmer, but maybe that was because of its new red coating._

_Sam doesn't know, lost in his own mind wondering where his daddy's friends were, where Dean was. He's scared to die but he's got to be good for Dean! Wait... no, he doesn't want to die, he wants to see Dean, he wants his brother! Please!_

_The loathsome touch of a cold hand on his face jerks him out of his daze to stare right into the glossy nothingness of her eyes. "Here's the deal, kid. You pick. You choose whether she lives or dies... or you live or die. Stay quiet and you win the game, you get to walk out the 'Grand Champion' to go see your daddy and Dean who, by the way, are not charging to your rescue, or you can save Little Miss Muffet here who, just like you, wandered away from her tuffet to somewhere she really shouldn't have but has been just so much fun I want to eat her all up. So, which is it to be, kid? Save or be saved?" An evil, twisted smile lit up her face accompanied by a high insane giggle. _

_Too many thoughts spin through his brain, but one thing he knows is that Dean was right, he was right about what monsters could do and he didn't want to die, didn't want to die, he was only nine!(?) He figures he must be just staring slack-jawed into space because he soon gets a stinging clout to the head and snarled order._

_"You pick right now! Which one will it be? Pick or he'll eat her first and then he'll eat you."_

_There were so many things he wanted to do, go to school, get a job, learn to ride a bike, the world was spinning and he doesn't want to do this. Doesn't want to... The girl is staring at him, he can see she's trying to mouth words to him, but he can't make out what, she's so sad and tears have made clean marks on her skin. He can hear his father's words roaring in his head telling him that that's what they do, they save people, they help when others can't, or won't. Tears prick his eyes, _I'm sorry Dean, I'm sorry... _His mouth is open to speak, he knows it is, there is even the warm caress of air over his lips but nothing comes out, it's like a fist in his throat and he can't make it work. She won't let him._

_"Good puppy." A warm smile, flick of her hand and he starts to fade out as the terrified screams ring through the air. "No... please... no..." he hears the girl's voice for the first and last time._

_It was all his fault, this was all his fault... she's dying, all of them had died, because he couldn't be really really brave like Dean or daddy would have been... it was all his fault..._

The sounds of rustling brings Sam to the here and now, beyond his own internal whimpers he shoved away at the thing now laying half on top of him and hauled himself back on trembling arms as far as he can get against the remains of mouldering seats, good knee to his chest, rocking back and forth, in rhythm with his mews. He swiped a hand against the stickiness on his face.

The dog was back, _no no no, not again._

He doesn't need to see to know when it bared its teeth in his direction and Sam just about caught the scream before he pushed further back, trying to press himself as far away as he can; as far from the evil thing in front of him as possible.

It felt like hours later when something else moved, his breathing hitched and he wondered yet again - why wasn't he dead yet? Why wasn't the thing tearing him to pieces like he knew it should be. "Smm..."

Sam's heart stopped, was that... no, it couldn't be, Dean would never...

"Smm-y..."

Why was Dean here? Dean wouldn't let a black dog get him...

"Fk... S-a-m?"

Sam shifts, and he felt something warm down his cheeks, it's tears, he was crying, his brother was here, he sounded like he could barely speak, like he was in pain, a lot of pain, and Sam was doing the remarkably heroic thing and weeping like a fucking girl. Again.

Sam wanted to say _yes I'm here, Dean, I'm here_, but he couldn't. Instead, shuffling forward he moved his hands past the wet ground, over the sharp shards of metal that cut his palms, and hoped he can feel for Dean. He hit something soon enough, boots, Dean boots, his brown suede biker boots, and his jeans, the old ones with all the holes in. But that's as far as he got before the sticky blood terrifies him into touching any more, well, that and Dean's mew when he patted what was obviously a tender gash in his thigh. Dean didn't mew, why was he mewing?

Moving sideways, something slimy and slippery dangling from the ceiling, something that wasn't there before, slapped his face and he yelped, jerking back before hesitantly reaching out to touch it and found Dean's arm, sleeve snagged on a bit of the crushed ceiling. Taking a deep breath, trying to be as careful of the limb as possible, he worked it free and traced it back to the torso where, thankfully, it was still attached, and gently rested it on the barely moving chest. The stench of copper that he thought was just from his own injuries smelled stronger as his hands performed the ritual to find injury that didn't need sight, but the rough fabric of Dean's clothes was soaked and he couldn't tell if it was from the rain or something else and prodding deeper was out of the question.

It was too quiet, even in the echoey belly of the gutted van there wasn't much noise. Dean should have been making jokes about how incesty he was being right now, how he didn't like guys feeling him up, especially pervy little brothers.

Why did he sound like he couldn't breathe? The dog hurt him, so much worse than Sam first thought, the images of red and pain and horror flashed through the back of his eyes and Sam cried out, unable to stop himself from wrapping tight arms around his brother's shoulders.

"Sa-mmy... s'okay... m'ere, big b-rothers 'ere. S-super rescue h-huh?" Dean let out a chuckle before he coughed, then coughed more, until he went limp.

Fuck... they've been in bad spots before, but nothing topped this... _nothing_.

There was blood, so much blood, his hands coudn't keep it inside Dean where it belonged, and he could feel Dean's ragged breathing getting shallower and shallower. Icy cold, trembling fingers slid to Dean's throat in search of the fluttering pulse, pressing hard enough to bruise..._ nononono this could not be happening..._

There's voices outside the metal shell they are trapped in, familiar voices, scared, and angry and calling out for them. But Sam's world is now over... he doesn't care... he wants to die, he wants to be with his brother.

**_SPN_**

Sam's on his back, curled up in Dean's lap who he's managed to sit up, resting against the van wall like he was, like if they switch places, they can switch heartbeats too, his thumping one for Dean's still. Sam continues to gaze upwards at nothing, not looking where he knows his brother's dead eyes are above him, praying.

He can't process it, neither his body nor his mind will let him; it was impossible, Dean couldn't die, he was his big brother, his hero, he was Dean.

He felt numb, but it's the worst pain he's ever been in in his whole life, because he knows it can only last for so long, shock can only do so much. He can't move, not even his fingertips can he twitch, he feels dead too, he has no more reason to breathe, so why bother?

Water dripped down, every speck like a new burn on his skin, scalding him with reality. Then a drip on his face near his eye, it stung, as does anything that gets in your eyes and he wiped it away, taking some of the smear from earlier which he now realizes is blood... Dean's blood from his trapped arm that had trickled off his fingers and helped wake him up when this nightmare began. Sam chuckled, trust his brother to find an annoying way to wake him up... The chuckles turned to choked sobs and he wiped his eyes again belatedly realizing he was only rubbing more of Dean's blood into them from what coated his hands and Sam sniffled as the stinging got worse. What the hell, he deserved the pain, but there was something else too... he felt like it was washing something, wiping it away, cleansing it. He blinked excessively, then managed to get his arms moving again, get them to bring the tops of his hands to where he could grind circles in the red substance that was now taking over all his other hurts.

_God... fuck, Jesus, what the hell... _

He rubbed, using the heels of his hands now, when he took them away... all that catches him is the redness and the blue and vile mixture they make.

_Wait? See? Red? And... holy shit..._ He blinked again, making out the pale square of dim light coming through the van's shattered side. It had been blue, the van, but now its peeling paint was liberally splashed with shiny crimson, the same as he can see crusted in the creases of his palms.

"D-D..." he looked up, he feels something inside, something from the past loosen, the grip of the monster from the past, that knot he's always had deep in his mind start to come free. "D-De."

Moving in his brothers lap, wincing as he twisted to shift his aching leg, ignoring the ripple of pain in his shoulder and started to move... he could see now and maybe, just maybe, they would be allowed another miracle today, they'd earned it. He pressed his fingers to Dean's neck and prayed. "Gguuhaa." He's not sure what that sound he just let out was, but for now it would do as a gasp of complete... oh fuck it, Dean wasn't dead! He was weak, bleeding like crazy, hardly breathing, but he was still alive.

"D..." _Come on, fuck it's not that hard, it's a short name, it's only Dean, you've said it thousands of times, just speak for crying out loud!_ "Dean," he breathed, more a croak than anything, and he felt like it'd taken all the energy in the god damn world. "Dean. Dean. Dean." _Wake up. Please wake up._ He grabbed a handful of the matted threads left of his jacket and shook.

Dean let out something like a garbled choke.

"Dean. _Dean_..."

The unfamiliar voice had Dean lifting his head a fraction from its limp place on his chest, and he's smiling, beneath the dried, crusted blood he was smirking. "L-ook who's t-talk-in' 'gain."

Sam smiled back, and resisted every urge in him that wants to hold his brother tight and never let go like some massive chick flick film.

"Dean."

"Sam-mmy," Dean replied before his eyes close once again as his body gave out.

"Dean? Dean? Dean?" He's not sick of the name yet, Dean would be by the time he was done but... he just started moving his lips and urging his voice box to work again, using more vocab would have to wait. "Dean, Dean." Dean wasn't waking up, he's lost too much blood, he needed help. But that was okay, Sam would get them both help, he'd do what needed to be done.

**_TBC..._**


	14. Out of Tune

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**Out of tune**

"Sam! Dean! Sammy! Dean!" John called. This was just another hunt, just a simple black dog and some people he needed to rescue, that was all. Okay this wasn't just any hunt and these weren't just people, they were his sons, his reason for living, the only thing that got him to carry on after Mary. But fuck if he thought like that then he'd never get anywhere, he needed to be a professional about this.

"Check all the cars, all the vans, everything. This son of a bitch could be hiding out in any one of them."

"Fuck, Singer, there's freakin' thousands of places this thing could have my kids."

"We better get a move on then," Bobby said, not taking the bait. He knows he's fucked up, let a black dog sneak in near his own home for fuck knows how long, right under his nose, free to hunt down whoever it liked whenever it liked, and that he would not abide.

There was so much... red, that Sam's mind was having trouble processing it and his head swam. Putting his hand on an undamaged space on Dean's chest he concentrated, shatteringly grateful to be able to feel each shallow breath, each thready thump of his brother's heart, letting his hand just rest until the dizziness passed. His own injuries jabbed, bit and stung, his shoulder burned, needing holy water poured on it like three hours ago, but Dean was hurt worse, and that's the only thing that mattered right now.

The black dog was out there, the rancid stench still caught in eddies in the air though growing fainter as the rain washed it clean, but he didn't care anymore.

He had felt it dissolve, the almost physical band of silence born of fear and shame, bound so tight in his head for so long he'd barely recognized its presence, and the relief he'd felt as it disappeared was immense. To hell with the demon, she couldn't rule him ever again. He allowed the ghost of the terrified boy he was to finally fade away to leave him the man he is, the man his brother had raised him to be.

Shifting his grip, he held onto the shreds of Dean's jacket tighter and prepared to pull, dragging Dean along the ground, moving mere inches in minutes.

"Dean... Dean... Dean..." Sam chanted, getting breathless, long disused vocal cords raspy and weak, but not stopping because it was the only thing keeping his legs from buckling at that very moment.

Ignoring his body's protests he heaved again, sending an apologetic look his unconscious brother's way because the dirt and rocky ground had to be doing hell to his back right now, as if he didn't have enough injuries. This is where a stretcher, even one made out of his jacket, would do, if only he had a damn jacket.

They hadn't come across the black dog yet, but it was only a matter of time, he just hoped they made it to his father and Bobby before then. Just as the thought entered his mind, Sam regretted it, because the sudden vile reek close by told him he may have just jinxed them, even more than they were naturally.

Easing his burden gently down, he wrenched off a rusty car antenna as a flimsy weapon before crouching, eyes and ears open, prepared to cover his brother's body with his own.

"Dean," he said, it's different now though, he's pleading. Dean needed to wake up and save him because he doesn't want it to be like last time, he doesn't want to have to make a choice of his life over another, but if he does, his choice is clear and he won't hesitate.

"Sammy! Dean!" he heard from far away, and the smell soon disappeared. It was going after them... the dog was going after his dad and Bobby... nonono. Him, why couldn't it for once come after and kill him?

Surging to his feet, feeling a hit of adrenalin like hot lava through his veins, Sam heaved his brother from the ground and managed to cradle him in his arms before stagger stomping in the direction of the voice as fast as he could. He needed to get there and warn them before it came, he couldn't let anyone else die.

"Dad! Dad!" The rasping croaks are weak, even to his ears, but he hoped it carried over the canyons of steel. He didn't know where it came from, but oh hell is it helpful. He hurried, but the ground must have been hexed because it trapped his boots, each step seeming to stick more than the next. As he carried on, the calling made him stumble and the unthinkable happened... he dropped his brother.

"Boys? Where the hell are you? Sam? Dean?"

Bobby, that was Bobby, a part of Sam's brain uselessly supplied as his mouth opened in soundless shrieks while he fell to his knees, hauling his brother's torso off of the ground to rest on his lap. A thick skin of mud now coated the silent face, clinging to the long lashes, mixing with the blood and gore on his body to make a gruesome swirl of colour; fighting Sam's near frantic efforts to clean it off.

"DAD!" he forced again in a strangled sob, because 'watch out, it's coming for you' is too much, too soon. He has to run for them, warn them, but he can't leave Dean, he can't leave his brother.

Sam leaned into the wet, warm body below when he heard the growling - deep, dark, and deadly. He didn't even care anymore where it was coming from, or whether it was coming for him and his brother, or his uncle and his father. Either way, something truly painful was about to happen. Shots were fired, and he knew it was not close, but Sam flinched like the guns were aimed right at him. His dad was cussing, fighting, killing monsters, what he did best. Sam prayed he did his best today - for all of them. Dad never let anything get away, he would kill it, he would kill that monstrous son of a bitch, and if there was a hope left in the world, maybe it would be before it killed him too.

"SAM! DEAN! Watch out!" his father yelled, closer, so close, so full of fear, wait... fear? Dad didn't fear; he was feared!

Sam looked up and the reflex of the scream from his lips couldn't be helped. The black and grey matted coat, bloody dripping teeth and narrow black eyes flashed past his vision. Sam stood with his hands raised, the world in slow motion, his father's lips were moving, he looked angry at what his son was stupidly doing, but he had to, for his brother, he had to protect. Sam shoved forward with all he had and tackled the wet dog away from his brother's bleeding, still body. The stinking, sticky fur twisted in his grip as he fought to push it away; he flipped on his back and he could practically hear the dog, a fucking dog, almost laughing at him and his weakness - he didn't care. He heard another gunshot, several, and a white hot pain flashed through his side. The dog shuddered, letting out a strangled whimper as it buckled, and Sam could feel the warm gush of blood from the bullet inside. Sam took comfort in the minor fact that at least one of the bullets hit the beast as well as himself. Then he started to realize the thing was heavy, right across his chest. The weight, the pain, it multiplied, and his vision swam.

"D'n. Gu'get De," he managed when the weight was off and Bobby was crouching over him, mouthing something. He didn't care, they needed to help Dean. Hell, if he died, right here, right now, bleeding out behind some old banged up Beetle, at least he could say he did his brother proud. Took him long enough, huh?

**_SPN_**

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Beep. Bep. Bep. Bep. _

"Sammy? Sam, you awake, son?" _Bobby?_

_Bepbepbep._

_Jeez, someone stop that friggin' bleeping! _

"Guh..."

"Sam?"

Sam blinked away the blurs and tried to make out shapes from the white and grey. That bleeping, he worked out, must be a heart monitor or something, which must mean he was in hospital, which was odd because don't hospitals have good pain meds? Like... ow!

"Yo, little brother, wake the hell up, I'm bored out of my skull here."

"Dean, for crying out loud the kid got shot! Give him a little time to come around," John warns.

"It was barely a graze. He's fine, right Sammy?"

Sam blinked gritty eyes once more and looked over, Dean was smirking, but he didn't look like he was in any better shape than himself. He was pale, lines all over his face; he could just make out the bulk of bandages beneath the hospital gown and various tubes leading to bags on the pole over his brother's shoulder. But leaning over the bars on his bed the way he was, wheelchair or not, Dean looked to be ready to give him hell. At least there wasn't any more red, all the blood gone; replaced hopefully.

Sam forces his lids open, pushing away the pull of drug induced sleep for just a few minutes. But to shift the subject before the one where his ass is grass can be brought up, Sam frowns and looks around, mostly at Bobby, demanding an explanation for what the hell went on out there.

"He wants to know how the black dog found us," Dean elaborates for him, despite his voice being slightly cold.

"We figure it was the black annis' pet or something, when you killed her, and when she infected you, the thing felt it, and came after you, probably pre commanded. You gotta admit, monsters if nothing, are resourceful."

"Yeah, they're practically the yellow pages of evil," Dean snaps, earning a warning glare from his father.

After softening his expression, Dean turns back to his brother who's drifting before his eyes, and lays a hand on his arm. "Get some sleep, Sammy. You'll be needing it for tomorrow with how much I'm gonna make you talk."

Sam snapped his eyes back open, crap, Dean remembered that? He figured it could just be a onetime thing.

"Yeah, I heard, dad and Bobby did too, and Sammy... thanks, ya know for..."

"Jerk," Sam breathed, before he gave out to the meds that apparently were there after all.

**Epilogue**

Two weeks later the both of them are released from hospital with strict orders to stay in bed, and only getting out for the bathroom at the very much. They manage it for the first day and half back at Bobby's, but it's not long before the pair of them become restless. Dean needs another hunt, to kill yet another thing so he can keep the world, and most of all his little brother protected just that little bit more. And all Sam can think about is all the creatures, all the demons, everything they've hunted in the past, wondering just how many of them had pets like the black bitch whatever she was called. What if those pets were out there still, terrorizing victims without them even knowing it. And just how many of them in the past had been pets when they ended them.

Day three is when they give up the resting for good. Sometime during the night their father took off, without so much as a goodbye, not even a note on the refrigerator to say where he might be going and why.

Dean wanted Sam to get some more rest, though he wasn't following the doctor's orders himself by that point, but what can you do? That's what big brothers do. One rule for them, a different one for you.

But Dean was looking better than Sam, for which he was glad. The color was returning to Dean's grey-ish cheeks and the secret pill popping when he thinks no one is looking was getting less. And apart from the occasional twinge from his left over bullet wound, Sam was otherwise better as well.

On the seventh day from being released from the hospital, they pack up their crap, load it into the back of the Impala and off they go back on the road to search for their dad, or any evil thing that might stand in their way once again.

At least they told Bobby they were heading out, and promised to call every so often, which is more than they can say for their asshole of a father.

"He's gonna be back, ya know?" Dean placed a hand on his shoulder.

Sam nodded, pushing away the angry thoughts that came hissing out of their near permanent cave in his brain where all his anger and disappointment sat.

"He came back this time, didn't he?"

Sam rolled his eyes, so what? It's going to take one of them dying from some supernatural disease again for their own father to come see them?

"You know what I mean. Come on, man, we've got each other, right?"

Sam sighed, yeah, they had each other.

"And we've got Bobby."

Sam snorted, giving his big brother a small reluctant smile.

"And, best of all, we got the hottest waitress in the damn diner."

Sam swallowed when he heard heels clicking on the tiled floor. A busty, blonde woman approached with a note pad, the biggest damn smile and fakest lashes he's ever seen.

"What can I get you two handsome boys?"

"I'll have black coffee and... full breakfast, thanks. Sam?"

Sam pointed to the same, then the tomatoes and shakes his head. "No tomatoes?" the woman asked.

He shook his head yet again, ignoring the kick he just got under the table.

When she smiled and walked away, Dean leaned across the table to his brother.

"Rule number one?"

Sam sighed. "Words," he said, reluctantly using his weak, but getting stronger, scratchy voice, keeping it to the smallest possible sentence ever.

"Nope, try again."

Sam glared this time. "No words, no food."

"See, wasn't so hard was it?"

It's Sam's turn to kick under the table. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Asshole."

"Geek boy."

"Pervert."

"Mime."

"Shut the hell up, Dean."

Dean's face lit up. "Note to self, hit a nerve with Sam and he actually uses full sentences."

"...Shut. Up. Dean."

"Hell, for over ten years of speaking for the both of us, gladly little brother, gladly."

**The End. **

_As like Post Blue, this was such a struggle to write after about the third chapter. I never envisioned this story going the way it has, it just sort of went wild on me and I had no idea how to continue it. But at LONG last, it's done, and I hope the ending isn't too much of an anticlimax and a letdown as you've waited so long. Thank you so much for all the support throughout this! Especially Samantha V who has stuck by my side and been so much more than a beta to me! I love you all. Hugs! Becka._


End file.
